Great and Unfortunate Things
by LoveTheCoat
Summary: Set immediately post-series - An accident leaves Brian with the responsibility of raising his son. He gets a little help from his friends along the way but will he be able to handle the new role of full-time father? *Minor character death*
1. Prologue

_**Prologue**_

It started as a normal day. The weather was fine and traffic was light. They were all laughing when it happened. Laughing with joy at something silly Gus had said. Even JR was gurgling happily in her car seat with a toothless grin on her face.

When the tire blew out Lindsay felt a moment of panic, but calmed some when it seemed Melanie had regained control of the car. Then things went crazy and they were rolling; broken glass, baby toys, bottles, and other debris that had been lost and forgotten in the cracks and crevices of the car floated in slow motion before Lindsay's eyes, gently hitting with tiny stings as they bounced off her face. She could hear screaming and crying but when she tried to turn to her children she couldn't move, the forces of their motion along with the seatbelt across her hips and chest pinned her painfully to her seat.

Then just as suddenly as they had started rolling, they stopped and for what felt like several long moments there was nothing but a rushing silence in her head. Something was wrong, though as the pounding in her head increased. Regaining her bearings Lindsay slowly realized they were upside down. Sudden, intense pressure and pain from the taut seatbelt across her hips helped bring things into sharp focus. Slowly more sounds began piercing the veil of silence and she could hear Gus and JR crying.

_Gus! JR!_

Lindsay tried to twist in her seat but she couldn't move and everywhere hurt. She tried to call out to the kids but she couldn't get enough air to move through her lungs to make any noise. Slowly she turned to look at Melanie; she had a cut on her temple and Lindsay wanted to reach out and clean away the trickle of blood. They were staring at each other when the other car hit them on the front driver's side, sending more glass crashing in on them and sending the already crippled vehicle into another tailspin.

Everything was in motion again and the last thing Lindsay saw before she lost consciousness was Melanie mouthing 'I love you'.

Then everything went silent and dark.


	2. Delicate Things

"What happened?"

Brian started awake, Lindsay's gravelly voice drawing him from his partial slumber.

"Linds," He stood quickly from the chair at her bedside, breathing with relief.

"Brian?"

"Hey," Brian hovered over her, gently stroking her hair while her eyes seemed to struggle to focus on him.

"What are you doing here? Where am I?" she tried sit up, wincing with pain at the attempt. Brian gently pressed her back down.

"Don't," he said softly as his hand started to reach for the call button.

"Brian," Lindsay's eyes widened as if she suddenly remembered what had happened, "the kids…"

**_Two days earlier…_**

Brian was "entertaining" for the first time at the loft since Justin had left for New York several weeks earlier. They were on his bed and the trick had Brian's dick in his mouth when the phone rang. Brian considered ignoring it but the blowjob was pretty dull and he was moments away from kicking the guy out anyway, so he answered.

It was Michael on the other end, and Brian was not prepared for what his friend told him. Michael's voice was thick with emotion and Brian listened to him with growing horror. Roughly pushing the trick off him and ignoring his protestations Brian promised Michael he'd leave right away. He hung up the phone and immediately called Liberty Air; within five minutes he was booked on the next flight to Toronto and the trick was unceremoniously kicked out and promptly forgotten. With only an hour to catch his flight, Brian put on his recently shed clothes, hastily threw a few things into a small carry-on bag, and rushed from the loft to the airport.

He made his flight with a few minutes to spare and once on the plane, Brian considered whether he should call Justin right away or not. He really wanted (needed even) to hear the younger man's voice but he also didn't want to call until he had news to report. Justin was likely still unpacking and settling in his new place and the last thing he needed was this. There wasn't anything he could do from New York City other than feel anxious and worry and Brian wanted to save Justin from that, at least until there was something to feel anxious and worry for; and Brian desperately hoped there would not be.

Of course Brian wasn't really sure what Justin was up to anyway – they hadn't spoken since he'd left Pittsburgh. Neither man had called the other, even though Brian frequently thought about him. The nights were the loneliest and Brian hadn't been sleeping well, alone in his big bed. The emptiness of the space was so very apparent and left Brian feeling cold and lonely. It had taken him a few weeks to get used to the silence at night but still he found it hard to fall asleep. He still craved the warmth of Justin's body pressed to his, the feel of his hot breath on his neck as they'd fall asleep holding each other, usually still sweaty from making love.

Yes. Making love. Brian had resigned himself to admit that was what they did now. Sometimes they still fucked hard and fast and angry, but more times than not it was slower, and sensual, and personal. Brian liked it that way – though he'd never admit it to a single person and now that Justin was gone it didn't matter anyway. He'd never "make love" to anyone else but Sunshine, and the chances of that happening ever again were slim, at least in Brian's mind.

The moment Justin left for New York Brian had promised himself he would give Justin his space – space to discover who he was and what he wanted from his life. He ran the risk of losing him, but Brian didn't want to be the thing that held Justin back. He wanted Justin to come back to him, and not at the sacrifice of something else. Besides, he was also living in New-fucking-York and he deserved to be free to enjoy the city that never sleeps. Brian truly hoped Justin was taking advantage of that aspect of New York because knowing Justin was living his life and experiencing new things and becoming his own man kept some of the pain at bay, and was all that kept Brian from rushing there after him.

As the days after Justin had left turned to weeks, then a month Brian realized it was a lot harder to avoid looking back on the last nearly five years; and it was almost impossible to avoid looking back on them without some sadness. Taking him home that first night Brian had never expected he would feel anything for Justin. He was just another trick, another fuck in a long line of fucks. But the kid had persisted and Brian had yielded. He was fucking amazing in bed. Then, sometime around Justin's 18th birthday Brian had realized that he cared; He had legitimate feelings about the kid. He'd fallen for him, and hard. It was a frightening realization for Brian to have, and had Justin not been bashed Brian sincerely believed he might have broke things off with him, just to avoid feeling any of the emotions that Justin stirred within him. But prom happened, and the bashing happened, and after that Brian couldn't stay away; he didn't want to stay away. He wanted and needed to make sure Justin was okay, and he wanted and needed to be in his life.

They'd had their ups and downs, sometimes it was Brian's fault and sometimes it was Justin's. Neither of them had been perfect, but it had been pretty great for most of those years they were together. When Justin decided to go to New York though, that something wonderful and unexpected had ended, maybe temporarily or maybe forever, there was no knowing and so Brian just lived his life each day, refusing to look too far ahead for fear of seeing a life without Justin in it.

Brian didn't know what would happen next and try as he might, he couldn't quite heal the wound that had been left by Justin going away. All he knew was that he wasn't letting himself feel anything for anyone else again. It hurt too much; damned love.

With a heavy sigh Brian shoved thoughts of Justin from his mind. He stared out the window of the plane and tried not to think about Justin, or what Michael had told him over the phone, or what might be waiting for him in Toronto. That didn't leave much else to distract him though, and he was anxious and fidgety the entire flight.

When he landed in Toronto there was a car waiting to take him to Toronto General Hospital where the women and the kids were being treated, and where Michael and Ben had arrived a few hours earlier. It was late so traffic was light. The ride there was as short as it could be, though it still felt incredibly long to Brian. His imagination, having never been overactive, seemed to make up for lost time as he envisioned all sorts of horrors waiting him when he arrived.

The first thing Brian saw when he went through the doors of the Emergency Room was Michael with JR in his arms. He was pacing the floor, holding her close. As Brian approached them he saw the baby had a few bright red lacerations on her face, and though she was asleep against Michael's shoulder, her expression was troubled.

"She okay?" Brian reached a hand out gingerly, softly touching the silky hair on her head.

"Yeah," Michael sighed, placing a gentle kiss on her and offering Brian a tired, but relieved smile.

"Where's Gus," Brian immediately asked, the obligatory question about the baby out of the way. He pulled his hand back and narrowed his eyes, looking around the waiting room his heart beginning to beat very fast. He was glad JR was okay, but his primary concern was for his kid. He'd been anxious the entire trip but now that he was at the hospital it was suddenly very real, and fear was coursing through him so electrically he thought he might explode out of his skin.

"The doctor is casting his arm," Michael said, "They couldn't wait any longer for you to get here so Ben went with him."

Brian nodded, his fear turning to agitation. He wanted to see his kid. Now.

"Where," he emphasized once more. He was glad Gus wasn't alone, but Brian needed to see his son. To hold him and make sure he was okay. He'd never felt so desperate to see a person in all his life. It was a terrifying sensation.

"I'm not sure," Michael said uncertainly.

"Fuck!" Brian nearly yelled, eliciting a few shocked looks from some of the people sitting in the chairs around them.

"Brian!" Michael said in a hushed voice, his hand protectively cradling JR's head as she stirred in his arms, whimpering.

Brian ignored Michael and paced the floor a few times, the turmoil of all the emotions he was feeling confusing him. He was angry, and scared, and sad, and frustrated and every variation thereof. The dam he'd constructed in his head to hold it all back was near overflowing, making him feel even more anxious, making him feel fiercely protective. But of all the things he was feeling, what was strongest was his desire to see Gus, to hold him and cradle him like Mikey was JR. His arms ached to have his son in them, wrapped around him to protect him.

Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, he moved to the nurse's station.

"I'm looking for my son. He was in a car accident and has a broken arm," he said brusquely to the older, heavy set woman who sat behind the desk.

"Name," she replied automatically without looking up.

"Gus Peterson-Marcus," Brian replied, his heart beginning to race again as fear became the dominant emotion. His eyes pricked and his chest tightened causing him to feel short of breath. He bit his lower lip in an attempt to stem the emotions coursing through him.

"Gus Peterson Marcus," the nurse repeated, typing into the computer. "He's getting a cast. The doctor will be back shortly with him," she stated plainly, finally looking up at Brian.

Brian, not trusting himself to speak, bit his lip harder and nodded as he worked to regain his composure. The nurse's expression softened somewhat.

"They're finishing up. If I sent you to them you'd likely pass in the hall. They'll be back soon, sir," she smiled gently.

"Fine. Shit," Brian angrily swiped at a tear that had slipped from his eye. Turning, he reluctantly returned to the waiting area, alternately standing and sitting as he watched the corridor with growing impatience.

It was nearly ten minutes of tortuous waiting before Brian saw Ben turn a corner and appear at the end of the long hallway, carrying Gus in his arms. Standing, Brian moved quickly, nearly running to meet them. He saw Ben whisper something to Gus and then the little boy was turning in Ben's arms, reaching out his uninjured arm to Brian. His face was blotchy and stained with streaks of tears. Brian wasn't even halfway to them yet when Gus cried for him. Brian did run, then.

"Daddy," Gus choked and Brian's heart broke. The left side of his face was black and blue and swollen. A superficial cut ran across the width of his forehead. Brian hoped he wouldn't be physically scarred. He was certain the emotional scars were already a given.

"Come here, sonny-boy," Brian whispered thickly, gently taking Gus from Ben and nodding in thanks to the other man. Being careful to protect Gus's broken left arm he held the boy tight to him.

Brian felt tears slip from his eyes as Gus buried his head under Brian's chin and wrapped his uninjured arm around his neck, grasping the collar of his shirt in a tight fist. The little boy cried openly then, and Brian held him close, stroking his hair and whispering nonsensical words of comfort.

He held Gus all night long, the boy falling into a fitful sleep after Brian gave him some Children's Tylenol to help the pain in his arm. He occasionally cried out weakly as he slept and his grip on Brian never loosened. Brian rocked him, holding him as close as he could and offering as much physical safety and protection as he could while the men waited for news on Melanie and Lindsay. Both women were in surgery and had been since before Brian's arrival. The hours seemed to stretch on as the three men sat together in miserable silence, Michael and Ben took turns holding Jenny Rebecca while Brian, unwilling to relinquish his hold on his son, refused their help with Gus.

Brian desperately wanted to ask Michael what he knew about what had happened but he didn't want to talk about it in front of Gus, sleeping or not. It was obvious the kid was traumatized by the accident; Brian was just so damn grateful he suffered only a broken arm. It could have been so much worse…

The thought of that possible scenario terrified Brian like nothing else ever had. He thought he'd been scared when Justin had been bashed but the thought of losing Gus was infinitely worse; paralyzing even. As much as he never thought he'd wanted to be a father it continued to amaze him how much he loved Gus. Having had no positive male figures to model himself after it surprised him how easy it was to love the kid, how much he wanted to love him and how instinctual it was to be his father. It also made his father's shortcomings glaringly obvious.

Bitter resentment threatened to take hold when thoughts of Jack Kinney started to invade his head but Brian pushed it all away. Now was not the time to think about his daddy-issues. Now was the time to think of his son, and of Lindsay and Melanie.

He pulled Gus tighter to him as he thanked the fates for his son's life.

It was near 3am when a doctor finally came out to talk to them. His expression was grim and new fear gripped Brian's heart. He squeezed his sleeping son closer to him, his hand moving to cradle his head against his shoulder as he stood along with Michael and Ben. Ben was the one to ask the only question they all had on their minds.

"Are they alright?"

The doctor paused, his eyes moving over the three men before he fixed his gaze back on Ben.

"Ms. Peterson is in a medically induced coma-," he started and Brian let out a sigh of relief. She was still alive.

"But she'll be okay?" Brian interrupted, his hand making small, soothing circles on Gus's back as his son let out a tiny, whimpering cry.

The doctor turned to address Brian directly.

"She suffered severe internal injuries from the accident. In addition to repairing a tear in her stomach we also had to remove her gall bladder and one kidney. We have to wait and see but I'm cautiously optimistic she'll recover from those injuries. However, there's apparent damage and swelling around the lumbar spine, which is why we've put her into the coma," the doctor paused, "we don't know yet if the damage to her spine is permanent, and it's highly likely we'll have to go back in to repair the spine once she's stabilized."

Brian closed his eyes. Shit.

"What about Melanie?" Michael asked. Brian could hear in his voice how close he was to breaking down. He watched as Ben wrapped one strong arm around Mikey's shoulders, putting the other beneath JR and helping Michael to cradle her.

The doctor shook his head.

"She didn't make it. I'm sorry. We did all we could."

**_Now…_**

"Where are they Brian?" Lindsay's hands weakly pawed at Brian's forearms while big, fat tears fell from her scared eyes.

"Linds, they're okay," Brain pressed his lips to her forehead, momentarily forgetting about paging a nurse as he gently stroked her hair in an attempt to calm her down.

"I want to see Gus," she replied, more awake now and sounding almost panicked, "Where's Gus?" She looked to Brian with pleading eyes.

"I know, shhhh," Brian smoothed her hair back and tried to smile at her. "Look, he's right here," Brian took a step back and pointed to the second bed in the room. Gus was there, curled up in a ball. He appeared even tinier then he really was, under the blankets. His arm, sporting a sky blue cast, was holding tight to the teddy bear Brian had purchased in the hospital gift shop. He was sleeping, but his expression was anxious.

"Oh my God," Lindsay moaned, "his face, and his arm. Is his arm broken?"

She started to sob as she looked back to Brian.

"Calm down," Brian soothed, "he's okay. It's a clean break and the doctors say he'll be healed up in a few weeks."

Nodding, she raised her hands to her face and breathed in and out.

"Jenny Rebecca!" Lindsay exclaimed suddenly, dropping her hands.

"She's fine, too," Brian smiled again, taking her hand, "she's with Michael and Ben back at the house."

Closing her eyes, Lindsay breathed another long sigh of relief.

"Melanie?" she asked quietly, her eyes still closed and her voice betraying her exhaustion.

This was it, the moment he'd been dreading for days. He had no idea how to tell his most treasured friend and the mother of his son that her wife, her partner, was gone forever.

_Fuck_.

"Brian?" Lindsay's eyes opened and as he looked at her he could see panic and fear taking hold once more.

Unable to say the words out loud, Brian simply shook his head. Lindsay gasped, and Brian watched as all remaining color drained from her face.

"No," she moaned, tears flowing freely, "no. no, no, no, no, nooooooooooooo!"

Her voice climbed until she was screaming and Brian, throwing nervous glances at his sleeping son, pressed the call button several times. The nurses responded quickly, likely already headed to the room once Lindsay had started screaming. Without a word they administered a sedative. Lindsay continued to moan no, over and over, until the drugs finally took hold and she drifted off once more.

Brian sat at her side for a long time. His heart was breaking for her. Melanie had never been his favorite person, but they'd come to have a mutual understanding with each other in the last few years. What hurt Brian now was that Lindsay was suffering from the loss, and would suffer for a very long time, likely forever. And Gus…when Gus finally thought to ask where his mama was, he'd suffer the pain of her death too, and there was nothing Brian could do about it, for either of them.

Brian looked over at his son. He'd slept through the outburst, thankfully. For the last two days Gus hadn't let Brian out of his sight. He would fall into hysterics if Brian left his sight for even a moment. The kid was having a hard time dealing with what had happened, understandably. It would be hard enough to deal with an accident like the one he'd been in as an adult, let alone a young child.

Moving to his son's bedside, Brian sat down on the edge of the bed and smoothed the wild, brown hair that mirrored his own in color and texture, away from Gus's forehead. He seemed to noticeably relax at Brian's touch.

_What the hell am I supposed to do now?_ Brian thought.

_Justin. It's time to call Justin._

* * *

The phone rang in his ear and Brian wasn't sure if he hoped Justin would answer or not. He didn't know if Justin had a job, if we was still asleep or out or what he might be doing. All he knew was that he was anxious and excited to hear Justin's voice but also terrified of what he might do if, or when, he were to hear it. He was feeling quite vulnerable, a feeling that was unfamiliar and a feeling he hated. But if he were to allow anyone to help or offer comfort to him right now it'd be Justin. Justin was the only one he trusted to expose himself too in this way, though he still didn't know if he should. Justin shouldn't have to deal with Brian's feelings; he'd soon have his own sadness to handle…

"Hello?" Justin's voice answered, putting an end to the torture in Brian's mind. His tone sounded cautious and Brian briefly wondered what had gone through his mind seeing his name and number on his cell phone after so many weeks of no contact.

"Hi," Brian replied awkwardly. He was suddenly scared – not of telling Justin what had happened but of losing the chance to tell him about what he really wanted to tell him; that he missed him. Brian would never have made this call if there hadn't been an accident and thus he'd never have given himself an opportunity to tell Justin that he missed him. Now that he had him on the phone though, the words were there on the tip of his tongue begging to be spoken. Brian knew it was not the time though, and would likely never be the time again. This accident was going to permanently change everything in not only Lindsay and Gus's lives, but Brian's and by extension, Justin's too.

Before this accident, Brian would allow himself to entertain the possibility of reuniting with Justin, of coming back together to have a life with each other but now… Brian couldn't see how it could possibly work and as much as he wanted to be selfish and tell Justin everything he was feeling, he knew he couldn't; he wouldn't. The call was about Mel, and Justin would need Brian's support to get through his grief.

"Hi," Justin replied. He still sounded uncertain, guarded.

Closing his eyes Brian sighed heavily, suddenly feeling his stomach clench painfully. Glancing back into the room where Gus was still sleeping and where Lindsay laid unconscious from the sedatives, Brian opened his mouth to speak but found he didn't know how to say what he needed to say. All he knew was this should not be the first conversation he had with Justin…

_Shit._

"Brian?" Justin's voice, now overtly concerned, broke the silence between them and Brian leaned his head back against the brick wall of the hospital corridor.

"There's been an accident," he said finally, closing his eyes, the harsh fluorescent lights were suddenly painful to look at.

"An accident? Are you okay?" Justin breathed. A small part of Brian was happy to hear worry in his voice.

"I'm fine," Brian replied calmly, taking note of the relieved sigh that came from the other end of the phone.

"It's Melanie and Lindsay," Brian said, "and the kids."

"Fuck. Is Gus okay?" Justin sounded truly alarmed now and Brian's heart ached. That Justin would ask about Gus first...

"He has a broken arm, a bad bruise on his cheek and a nasty cut on his forehead. He's fucking terrified, but he'll be okay."

"Shit, Brian," Justin whispered and Brian wanted nothing more than to feel Justin's arms around him, holding him, comforting him. To feel his butterfly kisses on his face – tracing the outline of his jaw, pressing softly against his eyelids, his lips. He could almost imagine the ghost of Justin's touch on him…

"What about JR? And Mel and Linds?" Justin asked his tone slightly urgent, demanding information.

"JR is fine. Just some cuts on her face," Brian closed his eyes. "Lindsay had some internal injuries and had to have her gall bladder and a kidney removed. And she has some spinal damage. She'll have to have surgery again, when she's stable. There might be permanent damage but they won't know for awhile."

"Oh my God," Justin sighed. Then, speaking softly as though he already knew the answer, "what about Mel?"

"Melanie didn't make it," was all Brian said.

He heard a sharp intake of breath through the phone line and Brian wished he was there to wrap his arms around the blonde, to offer him kisses and comfort and security. Melanie had been his friend right from the start, and even though Brian had known her for longer, Justin had known her better. She had never been Brian's friend; not the way she'd been Justin's.

They were quiet together on the phone for several minutes. Brian let Justin deal with the news, listening to him try to stifle his tears. It hurt him to have to deliver the news this way, or that he had to deliver the news at all. And listening to Justin, so upset, was more painful for Brian than the actual news of Melanie's death had been, and Brian slightly hated himself for that.

"What happened?" Justin finally whispered, his voice cracking.

"I'm not sure yet," Brian whispered back, his own voice catching in his throat. He raised his free hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. All he wanted to do was wake up from this fucking nightmare.

"What can I do?" Justin finally asked, still sniffling but sounding stronger, more composed.

"I don't know," Brian said softly, honestly.

"Do you need me to come to Toronto?"

Brian wanted nothing more than to say yes. _Yes, please come and be here with me and help me with Gus and Lindsay. Comfort me and love me and…_

_No. Stop._

"No," he whispered, squeezing his eyes closed as he gently hit his head repeatedly against the wall. "There's nothing to do here but wait. You should stay in New York. You just got there."

"Fuck New York!" Justin replied hotly before his tone grew gentler, "If you need me, I'll be there. I can get on the next flight."

Brian didn't speak for a moment for fear of saying too much, of declaring that he wanted nothing more than for Justin to come to him and to stay and to please never leave him again. He wanted to tell him that each time he left he took with him another piece of his heart and Brian was afraid there wasn't much left of it for him to live on… He wanted to tell Justin to come to him and bring back all the pieces so Brian could be whole again; and so he could be with the only other person aside from Gus that he'd ever loved enough to want to be a better man for.

"Brian?"

"Stay there, Sunshine," Brian said quietly, gently, without emotion. He swallowed all his declarations, feeling them settle heavily in his stomach, "I'll call you when I have more news."

When Justin didn't reply right away Brian said the only thing he could think of.

"Later."

He ended the call before he heard if Justin had said anything back.


	3. The World Spins Madly On

_Two days ago…_

Brian sat silently in the Emergency Room chairs, cradling his sleeping, almost five-year old son while Michael and Ben, JR between them, held each other and cried.

Brian felt only an empty, dull ache at the news. He wanted to feel something more; he felt like he _should_ feel something more but he just didn't. He couldn't. It was too unreal.

Melanie was gone; dead. It was unfathomable.

In all the years that Brian and Lindsay had been friends, the only thing they ever really argued about was Melanie. It had taken nearly a decade for him and Mel to put aside most of their grievances and to learn to be civil. Brian wasn't an idiot – he knew a lot of the problems between them stemmed from his attitude regarding love and relationships (monogamy) and responsibility – essentially, his incredible immaturity and inability to commit to anything or anyone. But Melanie was also incredibly stubborn, and so many times Brian felt that no matter what he did or tried to do to make up for being a twat to her in his younger years, Mel would always see him as that asshole friend of Lindsay's that persisted in trying to come between them time and time again. Brian couldn't blame her; he'd been pretty awful to her for so very long.

When Gus had been born, and Justin had come into his life, things changed for him. At least it felt to Brian like things had changed. He felt different, even if nearly everyone around him treated him the same. Still, he and Melanie could not form a relationship. They'd bonded for a short time when Lindsay had considered marrying the French frog, but after Brian had given Gus to the reunited munchers things had quickly reverted back to the way they had been before. In all honesty, Brian didn't care too much. He had learned to accept Melanie, warts and all, because she loved Lindsay and she was good to Gus, and that was all he really cared about in the end.

Now though, even if he wanted to make up for the past he no longer had a choice in the matter. His relationship with Melanie would never grow; never change. It would forever live as it was because Mel was gone, snuffed out of existence just like that. The world would go on without her, and no one but those who had known her and loved her would ever even know she had existed.

He felt guilty he hadn't tried harder.

"Can we see her?" Brian heard Michael ask tearfully.

"Of course," the doctor replied, "I'll come get you when we've cleaned her up."

* * *

"I need to call ma," Michael said, his voice raw.

They were still sitting in the ER. Waiting.

"We will. Don't think about that now," Ben soothed, stroking Michael's hair as his eyes gazed upon his partner. Brian saw worry, concern, and love in his expression.

"I can do it," Brian offered.

Michael and Ben looked at him with apparent surprise – like they had forgotten he was there; and then Michael just shook his head. "No. I need to do it," he said quietly.

"Well I can call everyone else," Brian said feeling slightly defensive. Gus stirred in his arms then, turning his head and resting it against Brian's heart.

"Thanks," Michael mumbled, looking at him with an odd expression.

Brian chose to ignore his look – afraid to ask him what he was staring at. Afraid to know what kind of unfeeling monster his friend apparently thought he was.

When the doctor came for them to view the body, Brian stayed behind. He didn't think it would be wise to take Gus in that room, sleeping or not. He didn't think it'd help his son if he were to wake up suddenly and see his mama like that. Instead he just held him close and watched as Michael and Ben, with JR, followed the doctor down the hall and out of sight.

"Shit," Brian whispered, leaning back in the chair. His ass ached from being forced to sit in the hard plastic of the waiting room chairs. Standing and moving to get some blood flowing back into his aching muscles, Brian met the eyes of the same nurse he had talked too when he'd first arrived.

"Your son?" she asked and Brian bit back a snarky reply, nodding instead.

"He looks just like you," she smiled warmly.

"Yeah," Brian winked at her, "lucky kid."

The nurse laughed and Brian felt a smile cross his features momentarily before it faded.

"Can you tell me what will happen to my friend's body?" Brian asked, shifting Gus's weight slightly. His biceps were beginning to cramp up from holding his son for the last several hours.

"We'll release it to the next of kin," the nurse's smile had gone, too, in its place a sympathetic expression.

"It's just that she's Jewish, and they have all these fucking rituals and traditions and shit," Brian said with some sarcasm. He suddenly felt obligated and responsible for making sure Melanie's religious rites were upheld.

"Her wife is also here in the hospital, in recovery from surgery. She's in a medically induced coma and I'm guessing she's Melanie's next of kin. What happens then?"

The nurse shook her head.

"I'm sorry, sir, I really don't know," she raised her eyebrows hopefully, "can I call an administrator for you?"

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Brian just nodded.

Michael and Ben came back roughly ten minutes later, their faces streaked with tears. Brian was slightly amazed either man had any more tears left in them. JR was also awake and fussing, trying to touch her face where the ugly red cuts crossed her tiny features.

"I need to take her home," Michael said softly. He looked exhausted and defeated.

"It's okay," Brian nodded, "Go take care of your kid."

"Want us to take Gus?" Ben offered and Brian felt a moment of blind panic. He knew in his head he should let them take him. Gus could benefit from a bath and being in his own home and his own bedroom, but Brian was terrified to let him out of his sight. His heart simply refused to allow him to let go of the kid.

"No," he said quickly, "we're fine."

Ben nodded and with a wave the two men took left, but not before Michael promised to come back after he'd slept a few hours. Brian watched them go with a strange sense of detachment. Everything that had happened in the last several hours, since he'd answered that damned call from Michael, felt like some bad dream he couldn't wake from. If not for the persistent ache of his ass, his back, his arms, his everything, he'd swear this was all a dream.

He yawned as he tried to get comfortable without disturbing Gus. He was suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion and wished desperately for his bed. Brian didn't have to wait much longer before a hospital administrator appeared to talk to him.

The man led Brian to a small lounge located off the ER waiting room. It had a long couch that Brian gently lowered Gus onto, before taking the knit blanket that was folded on the back of the couch and draping it over the boy. Gus whimpered as Brian laid him down, but he quickly settled into the soft cushions, curling up into a tight ball.

Brian stretched his back and arms, kneading his aching biceps as the administrator, Joe Correy, handed him a cup of coffee.

"You're boy looks just like you," he said as the two men sat at the small, round table in the middle of the small room. Joe had a file sitting in front of him and Brian could see Melanie's name on the tab.

"Yeah," Brian said absently, yawning again as he tore open two packets of sugar and stirred them into the cup. The coffee smelled acrid and burnt but the warmth of it was welcome in his hands. He sipped it, wincing at the terrible taste. No amount of sugar could make the drink palatable and Brian sighed.

"I know the coffee isn't that great," Joe said, "seems no matter what country you're in, hospital coffee is bad."

Brian cocked his eyebrow at the other man before taking another sip of the dreadful drink, forcing it down only for the caffeine.

"So tell me how I can help you," Joe said, "I've reviewed Ms. Marcus's file and I understand you have some questions about what happens next."

Brian nodded as he looked at his son, sleeping, "His birth mother is up in recovery, likely not to regain consciousness for awhile and I need to find out what I can do to take care of Melanie's body. She's Jewish and there are probably, likely, specific things that need to be done right away. She was always a stickler for the fucking details though I don't think she'd gone to synagogue for years."

Brian felt a bitter tone slip lacing his words so he stopped and collected his thoughts. This was for Lindsay and Gus, and Mel, he reminded himself.

"They'd just moved here from the States a little over a month ago and I don't know if they'd started citizenship proceedings, or if they had filed their wills with a lawyer here in Canada, or what. I just don't know."

Brian yawned again, his eyes watering and feeling ridiculously heavy even as he sipped at the caffeinated beverage. If he wasn't so exhausted he'd know to feel slightly embarrassed for knowing so little about the lives of the parents of his son.

"Okay. Let me see what I can find out," Joe nodded and patted Brian on the back as he stood. "It might be a little while as I'll need to wait for the local advocate's office to open, but feel free to stay in here if you'd like. I'll come find you when I know something. Just notify the nurse on duty at the desk if you leave."

Brian nodded. He knew he should take Gus home. The doctors didn't think Lindsay would be conscious for awhile and so there was no reason for him to stay. But Brian didn't even have the energy to stand up let alone gather Gus and take a cab to the muncher's house. Plus, Michael would be back in a few hours… Brian gave up fighting his exhaustion and folded his arms on the tabletop. He laid his head down, forgetting about the coffee. He fell asleep so quickly he didn't even hear Joe leave the room.

* * *

He heard the small cries and whimpers and while they sounded far away something about them stirred in him a primal instinct to wake up; somehow he knew he needed to help. He struggled against the heaviness of sleep – his eyelids refusing to listen to his brain's commands even as the cries became louder. Slowly he lifted his head, nearly crying out himself when a sharp stab of pain shot down his spine.

"Shit," he croaked, still fighting to open his eyes, his body slow to respond as the heavy weight of restless sleep refused to lift.

That was when he realized what the cries were; Gus. A shot of adrenaline coursed through him then, and his body did react, unbidden. He swiveled in the hard chair, wincing as another bolt of pain shot through the network of nerves in his lower back. He dropped from the chair to his knees and crawled to the sofa where Gus was curled up beneath the blanket.

He was still asleep, but obviously having a nightmare. His face was wet with tears and his small cries sounded sad and scared.

Brian placed his hand on the crown of his son's head and leaned down, resting his lips on Gus's forehead.

"Shhhh," Brian murmured, trying not to imagine the kind of nightmares that might be plaguing the four and a half year old. Likely full of unidentifiable images and sensations, not actual monsters – and images and sensations were something Brian couldn't protect Gus from. It wasn't like arguing against the boogeyman or werewolves. The things he'd experienced were real and scary.

"Gus," Brian smoothed his hair back, "it's okay sonny-boy."

He felt completely helpless. He had no experience in soothing a child from a nightmare – hell, he'd never watched Gus overnight – not since he was a baby. He had no idea what he was doing and he didn't know if he should be waking Gus up or not.

Glancing at the clock on the wall he saw it wasn't quite 7am. They'd been in here for not even three hours. No wonder Brian felt so awful; he'd barely had any sleep the last 48 hours and the near three hours he'd managed had been sitting in a hard chair and not in the least bit restful.

Gus continued to whimper and cry, struggling beneath the blanket. Feeling a panic growing in his chest, Brian did all he could think to do and in one quick motion, ignoring the pain in his back he stood, he scooped Gus into his arms, turned, and sank down onto the sofa with his son on his lap and his head resting against Brian's chest; against his heart.

Gus stilled almost immediately, his cries fading as his breathing evened out. With an exhausted sigh, Brian leaned his head back against the wall and his eyelids immediately fell once more.

He woke again a few hours later, according to the wall clock. There was a loud commotion in the hallway outside the lounge; voices were yelling and a woman was crying loudly. Brian groaned as a painful muscle spasm traveled down his shoulder when he raised his head from where it rested against the wall.

"You hurt daddy?" Gus's tiny voice asked and Brian looked down in surprise, seeing Gus's big eyes gazing up at him with real concern.

His son sat curled up against him, the fingers of his uninjured hand picking at the exposed stuffing of his plaster cast. The swelling on the left side of his face had gone down to Brian's relief, and the laceration on his forehead appeared less inflamed as well.

"No, I'm not hurt. I'm a-okay," Brian put on a smile for his son, pulling Gus to him in a tight hug and ignoring the stiff and sore muscles in his back and neck that screamed at the movement.

It was temporary pain after all.

"Does your arm hurt?" Brian asked, his fingers tracing the rough edges of the cast.

Gus just shrugged and shook his head.

"You make sure to tell me if it hurts, okay sonny-boy?" Brian swept Gus's hair from his forehead as his son nodded.

"Where's mommy?" Gus asked, his tiny, innocent voice piercing Brian's heart.

"She's sleeping," Brian deflected, not sure how he was going to tell Gus that not only was his mommy very seriously hurt and would have to stay in the hospital for a long time, but that his other mama was gone forever. He didn't even know if kids Gus's age could fathom what death meant. Hell, Brian barely fathomed what death meant.

The door to the small lounge opened then, and the man who had talked to Brian earlier walked in. John? Josh? Jerry? Brian couldn't remember.

"Good, you're awake," he said.

"Yeah," Brain sighed. He saw his abandoned coffee cup on the table and it came to him suddenly; Joe, his name was Joe.

"So did you find out anything?" Brian asked, glancing at Gus who was watching the other man curiously.

"Uh, yes," Joe said, also looking at Gus. "Say Gus, are you hungry? Do you want some breakfast?"

"Yeah, how about some breakfast?" Brian looked down and tried to feign excitement over hospital breakfast food. Gus looked back at Brian and shrugged shyly.

Joe leaned out the door and motioned. A few moments later a young nurse with a friendly smile came in.

"Can you take little Gus here to the cafeteria for some breakfast?" Joe asked her.

"Of course," she approached Brian and Gus, holding out her hand, "My name's Amelia, how about some breakfast, Gus?"

Brain shifted forward on the couch, gritting his teeth against the pain in his back and neck as he attempted to let the boy down to walk with the nurse. Before his feet could hit the ground though, Gus turned and grabbed on to Brian, screaming in apparent terror. The three adults all exchanged surprised looks before Brian just shook his head at the nurse and pulled Gus back up on his lap.

"How about I go with you?" Brian soothed, rubbing circles on Gus's back as the little boy clung tight to Brian's neck, his fresh tears soaking Brian's collar. Brian felt him nod his assent and so he stood, his back once again screaming in pain at the weight of the little boy. Gus didn't relinquish his hold on Brian until they were in the cafeteria and seated at a table. Even then he would only eat if he could sit on Brian's lap.

Joe and Brian made the best of it, talking around Gus. The situation was eerily similar to what he'd gone through with Ted five years ago and Brian felt both frustration and irritation.

Because Melanie was a lawyer, it had been slightly easier for Joe to try and track down her information. Even across the border. It seemed neither Melanie nor Lindsay had started any citizenship proceedings yet and as such they were all considered aliens under duress. They couldn't be refused medical care, but as soon as Lindsay was able to be moved safely, she would be transferred to a hospital in the States. It wouldn't be for awhile as she still required back surgery, but Joe told Brian he needed to begin to make preparations. Once the doctors here had done all they could to repair the damage to her spine she would be moved. Joe encouraged Brian to start making calls to find her a bed at a rehabilitation center. Some of the best ones could have long wait lists, he warned.

As for Melanie; a duplicate of her will on file at her previous firm named Lindsay as her executor. Since Lindsay was incapacitated and unable to make decisions, the flow of responsibility moved to Brian, who Lindsay had named her executor in time of death, and who had power of attorney in event of her incapacity.

Essentially, according to Joe, that meant Brian had power to make arrangements for Melanie's body as well as decisions regarding Lindsay's care for as long as she was comatose and unable to decide for herself.

It wasn't the news Brian wanted to hear, but it was what he expected, at least with regards to Lindsay. He wasn't sure he expected to be making Melanie's burial arrangements as well but he was strangely relieved to know that he could. It was something he could do, for Lindsay, and for Mel. And for Gus.

Joe left soon thereafter, giving Brian a few numbers to call including the contact information for the transportation of Melanie's body across the border. Brian stared at the number with detachment. He still couldn't believe this was all real.

Brian and Gus remained in the cafeteria for awhile after Joe left. Brian needed to call people, but with Gus unwilling to be parted from him he wasn't sure how he would go about it; he couldn't exactly blurt out the news with his son sitting on his lap. He hadn't even told Gus yet. With a sigh he pulled out his cell phone and saw the battery was at 22%; he needed to pick up a charger as he was certain he'd left his plugged in on the nightstand next to his bed back at the loft.

Navigating to his recent calls, he found Michael's name. The conversation was short and to the point. Yes, Michael had called Debbie, yes, she was very upset and yes, she was on her way with Carl and Hunter in tow; they should be in Toronto within the hour. Brian expressed to Michael that they needed to talk about Melanie and her burial before Brian hung up, intending to make the few calls he'd promised Michael he'd make, now that Debbie knew.

But first, Brian had to wait patiently for Gus to finish eating. The little boy sat calmly on Brian's lap, consuming more food than Brian thought a four and a half year old ever could. Brian watched him with wonder and sadness while picking at the remnants of Gus's dry, cold toast. He didn't feel particularly hungry but knew he needed to consume at least some calories. He was trying to prepare himself for when Gus would ask after Melanie. So far, he hadn't seemed too concerned that he hadn't seen either of his mothers for nearly a day. Brian thought the shock from the accident was probably still having an effect on him. That, and Brian's presence were likely keeping him distracted from missing his mommies but time was running out. Eventually Gus would become aware that neither of his mothers were around and Brian had no idea what he'd do, then. He only hoped Lindsay would be awake by then, and able to help him break the news because Brian was fairly sure he wasn't strong enough to talk to Gus about Mel's death on his own.

When Gus was finally done, Brian led him back down to the lounge. Gus walked, his uninjured hand gripping tightly to Brian as he stayed very close. He hugged his broken arm to his chest but insisted, when Brian asked, that it didn't hurt. Brian thought he'd feed the little boy a half dose of Children's Tylenol anyway.

On the way back to the room, Brian stopped by the hospital gift shop in hopes they'd have a compatible charger for his phone. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw they did. He also purchased a clean tee-shirt for Gus, as well as a brown, stuffed bear that wore light blue scrubs and had a plush stethoscope sewn to its arm. Gus accepted the gift happily, clutching the bear to his chest with his broken arm as he held on to Brian's hand on their way from the store back to the lounge.

Back at the lounge, Gus settled on the couch with his teddy, his eyes shifting to look at Brian every few minutes as if he was making sure he was still there. There was a small television in the corner of the room and Brian turned it on, finding some morning cartoons to distract Gus before he sat back down at the small table. His cup from earlier was still there, the coffee ice cold now. Plugging in his phone, Brian debated who to call first.

Theodore answered his phone on the third ring and before he could ask Brian where he'd been for the last day Brian blurted the news, quietly so Gus wouldn't (hopefully) hear. Ted and Melanie had had a unique friendship, and Brian knew the news was likely to hit his friend very hard.

Brian, listening to Ted cry over the phone, watched Gus play with his new bear, occasionally looking between the television and Brian. He was just a little kid, he shouldn't have to deal with a tragedy like this. Gus was innocent, and Brian feared a piece of his innocence would be lost when he was forced to tell him about Mel. He cynically laughed to himself as he realized he was certainly going to get enough practice telling people.

When Ted had finally calmed down enough to ask Brian what he could do, Brian was ready with a list of instructions that included bringing Brian all his work for Kinnetik, and also the things that needed his attention regarding the rebuild of Babylon. He wasn't delusional – he knew he'd have to remain and work from Toronto for several weeks, at least. Until Lindsay could be moved to the States he would need to stay and take care of Gus. Ted was, as usual, helpful and willing and promised to be in Toronto by the afternoon. Brian hung up and dialed Emmett next.

Emmett was less dramatic in his response to the news, which was surprising. Brian was strangely impressed by the stoic nature of Emmett's reaction. The usually flamboyant Emmett was subdued as he told Brian he'd coordinate with Ted to travel together. Brian hung up, knowing he'd likely see the two of them before the day was over.

Brian stared at his phone then, knowing he had one more call to make. Somehow he couldn't bring himself to do it. He didn't want to tell Sunshine the news; not yet – or rather, not ever. They hadn't talked for weeks and the last thing Brian wanted was for their first conversation to be news of Melanie's death. It would be, though. Regardless of if Brian called him now or later, the news he would deliver would be the same.

As he sat staring at the phone, his finger hovering over Justin's name on his speed-dial, the decision was temporarily taken out of his hands as the phone started to ring. It was Michael – he was back at the hospital and Brian felt momentary relief that he could put off calling Justin; at least for a little while longer.

Michael, thankfully, had brought with him a backpack full of books and crayons and a portable DVD player – all for Gus. Brian was thankful for the distraction for the kid and turning off the television Brian set up the DVD player with Finding Nemo.

He and Michael had a lot of work to do regarding Melanie's body and they spent the rest of the morning into the afternoon discussing the things they needed to do, and making phone calls to get things rolling.

* * *

**A/N: I am not a doctor or a lawyer or a Canadian. I did a little bit of research but essentially fudged a lot of the legal/will stuff in this chapter because those details aren't important beyond the next few chapters. I hope you'll forgive me any gregarious errors. Thanks for reading.**


	4. I Would Walk 500 Miles

Brian was again once alone. After he and Michael had arranged everything for Melanie, Michael had gone back to the house, muttering about wanting to hold his daughter. When Brian had suggested to Gus that he go home with uncle Mikey the kid had thrown another fit, wrapping his tiny arms around Brian's leg and burying his face in his thigh, screaming his refusal over and over. So Brian sent Michael off alone, and spent the next half hour trying to calm Gus down, rocking him on the sofa as he started to seriously worry over his son's mental state. Brian had seen and experienced firsthand with Justin, after the bashing, what post traumatic stress was and what it could do and he worried Gus was now suffering its aftereffects.

He held Gus for awhile, the body heat of his son causing Brian to break out in a sweat that only added to his already ripe scent. He felt grimy, and gross, and he knew he was smelly. He wanted nothing more than to take a long, hot shower and wash away all the crap that had descended on him in the last 48 hours. But he couldn't abandon Lindsay. He had to be there for her; he had to be the one to tell her about Melanie. He was the only one who could. Until she woke up, and until Brian had told her what had happened he wouldn't be leaving.

So he stayed, and so did Gus. Brian sincerely hoped he wasn't making things worse for his kid by keeping him at the hospital instead of making him to go with Michael. He just couldn't bear to force him do something he so obviously did not want to do – leave Brian's sight.

Later that morning the doctors moved Lindsay from recovery into a private room. She'd shown rapid improvement overnight and they were weaning her off the drugs that were keeping her in the medically induced coma. The doctor had told Brian he was hopeful she'd wake in the next 10-12 hours. So, as his second long day in the hospital slowly turned to evening, Brian gathered Gus and his backpack of distractions up and moved them in with Lindsay. It had taken him several minutes to explain to Gus that his mommy was hurt and sleeping. That he couldn't just wake her up, or hug her. Gus didn't seem to quite understand and appeared disappointed when they went into the room and Lindsay didn't move when he called out for her. Thankfully, aside from an IV, the oxygen leads, and the equipment monitoring her heart rate, she looked just like she was sleeping; her face bore very few cuts or bruises from the accident. Brian had to smile when Gus compared his mother to Sleeping Beauty after they watched her for awhile. It was true; though she was pale and lying in a hospital bed, Brian had to agree she looked lovely.

Not long after Lindsay was moved, Ted and Emmett arrived at the hospital. Brian greeted them awkwardly. He'd nearly forgotten that he had called them, the things he'd done that very morning already felt like they'd happened days ago. Their arrival brought welcome distraction though, and Brian was very glad to have Kinnetik business think about, as well as blueprints to look at and other decisions to make regarding the Babylon rebuild.

Ted and Emmett stayed at the hospital only briefly, long enough to look in on Lindsay and long enough for Ted to give Brian the rundown on things that had happened with his two businesses in the last day or so. They quickly departed, headed for Mel and Lindsay's where Debbie had set up house and where the gang was all convening to mourn together. Brian was actually surprised Debbie hadn't made an appearance at the hospital yet, but according to Ted she was waiting until Lindsay was awake before showing up. Brian was secretly grateful, He loved Deb, but he didn't think he could handle her particular brand of caring at the moment. He was having a hard enough time managing Gus while worrying about Lindsay, her inevitable grief, and the potential spinal injury she may or may not be suffering from.

After the guys left, Brian set Gus up in the second bed in Lindsay's private room and they had a picnic of vending machine food while Gus told Brian about Nemo. Only as he listened to his son talk about the movie did Brian realize how apropos it was for their situation; eerily so.

After their very unhealthy "dinner", Brian made Gus brush his teeth in the small, private half-bath that was in the room then he tucked him into the empty bed. The kid needed a bath nearly as badly as Brian, but they'd both have to wait for that luxury. Gus fell asleep quickly, holding on to his teddy bear. Brian watched him for a long time, staring at him like he hadn't done since he was a tiny baby; just looking at him and marveling at his existence. He took notice of how Gus's eyelashes were thick and straight, just like his, as was his nose; he noticed how his mouth and chin were duplicates of his mother; and he noticed how there was a tiny smattering of freckles across his nose – freckles so light that they became invisible from any other angle other than the one Brian was in; Brian wasn't sure where that particular trait came from; maybe the Kinney Irish roots.

Looking from Gus to Lindsay, Brian sighed and scrubbed his hands across his features, feeling two days worth of stubble. He briefly considered shaving, but decided he was too tired to make the effort. He settled himself into one of the straight-backed chairs in the room knowing he'd have another restless night and an even sorer back come morning, but it was all he had at his disposal. Positioning himself between the two beds, Brian sat, and waited, and watched.

He was somewhere between the bliss of sleep and pain of awake when Lindsay finally woke up, her confusion and fear giving Brian strength he didn't know he possessed. But when he'd had to tell her about Mel, she'd screamed her disbelief and his newfound strength waned. Gus slept through the disruption, thankfully, and when the nurses rushed in and sedated her Brian felt sure he would go mad. He felt completely helpless and out of his element – completely at a loss to know what he should do and overwhelmed by everything going on around him.

Then he remembered; he hadn't called Justin yet. Giving himself that task gave him a specific purpose and even though it was the last thing he really wanted to do, it was something he could so. So he did. He called Sunshine, shared the bad news, and everything hurt all over again.

* * *

After Brian hung up with Justin he returned to the room, to his sentry position. Lindsay didn't wake again through the remainder of the night, and Brian was able to sleep off and on, though mostly off. The chair was uncomfortable and even though there was enough room, Brian couldn't bring himself to disturb Gus so he could share the second bed.

Around 6am Brian gave up on trying to sleep any longer and checking that Gus was still out cold, Brian closed the door to the room and wandered down the hall, stretching all his aching muscles – muscles he didn't even know he had. He found a coffee dispenser and after forking over a ridiculous amount of change for the sludge they had the audacity to call coffee, he headed back to Lindsay's room.

Gus was still sleeping when Brian got back to the room. Sitting at the foot of his bed, he sipped the bad hospital coffee and watched the slow and steady rise and fall of Lindsay's chest. When he heard muffled footsteps at the doorway he looked over his shoulder, expecting the doctor. Brian felt his breath catch in his throat while his heart skipped a beat at the sight of a certain, unexpected, blonde visitor.

"I told you not to come," Brian blurted out once the shock had worn off. He set the coffee on the table between the two beds and stood to face him.

"Obviously I didn't listen," Justin quipped and Brian rolled his eyes.

Brian glanced at Gus before looking back at Justin. He was watching Brian with a peculiar expression; Brian wasn't sure what it was and it was making him nervous. He looked good, Justin. His hair was a little longer, and his skin had some color, like he'd been kissed by the sun. Brian had forgotten how easy it was to lose himself as he stared at the younger man, drinking him in. He was suddenly parched for the sight of him - and seeing him now was like finding an oasis in the desert.

"She's been sedated," Brian said lamely as Justin came fully into the room. Brian followed him with his eyes, watching as he paused at the foot of Gus's bed to look at the little boy for a moment before he walked to stand next to Brian at Lindsay's bedside. Brian tried to ignore his rapidly beating heart and the fact that he could smell Justin's spearmint soap.

"You should have stayed in New York," Brian added, feeling the need to fill the silence as he felt compelled to move to the opposite side of Lindsay's bed from Justin. He didn't trust himself to be so close to him. "There's nothing you can do here."

Brian smoothed back a few loose strands of hair on Lindsay's forehead as he stared down at his unconscious friend. He could feel Justin's eyes on him; watching him; likely trying to gauge his emotional status. It was frustrating and confusing and Brian, not for the first time and certainly not for the last time, wished none of this was happening.

"I came for you," Justin said softly and Brian felt a lump rise in his throat. He quickly swallowed it.

"I'm fine," he said flatly.

"Right," Justin replied after a long silence.

Brian looked up at him. Justin was looking at him in that way he did when he knew Brian was putting on a show, masking his emotions for the benefit of those around him. Justin had always been able to see through that mask and the thought almost made Brian laugh. Fuck if he didn't know Brian better than Brian knew himself sometimes.

The two men didn't speak for several minutes. Brian let his eyes travel around the room to look, in turn, at the three people he loved most, all there with him and in various stages of hurt and injury. A part of him wanted to seal off the room so he could stay with and watch over them all forever. So he could be sure to keep them all safe, forever.

"You look like shit you know," Justin finally spoke again, smirking slightly. Brian shook his head.

"You would too if you'd been living in a hospital for two days," he stated plainly, just a hint of sarcasm lacing his words. Justin's smirk grew slightly before it faded from his face.

Brian silently sighed. Fuck, this was so hard. Pretending everything was fine when nothing was fine and nothing would ever be fine again. Brian's hands itched to reach out and touch him, to pull Justin to him.

"You really should go clean up. You could use a shower and a shave," Justin spoke softly. "I'll stay with Lindsay. Take Gus and go."

Brian let his eyes travel back to his son. Gus was still in the clothes Brian had bought at the hospital gift shop the day before. He hadn't had a bath or a proper meal since before the accident. If nothing else, Brian knew he needed to take care of his son. He looked from Gus to Lindsay; he didn't want to leave her, though.

"I won't leave the room until you come back," Justin said emphatically, seeming to read Brian's thoughts. "I promise."

"I need to be here. If she wakes up-," Brian stopped, staring down at Lindsay's pale face. He had to be the one to be there when she woke again. He had to be the one to help her deal with the news of Mel. It had to be him…

"Brian," Justin's voice was gentle and Brian started when he suddenly felt the younger man's hand on his neck, "please go and take care of your son. And yourself."

Brain raised his eyes to Justin then. The younger man's blue eyes were filled with concern and his hand, still on Brian's neck, gently massaged at the tightness there. Brian felt himself succumbing to it, falling forward, melting into his touch. God, he missed Justin's touch.

Without meaning to do it, Brian found his lips meeting Justin's as they both leaned across Lindsay's bed to meet each other halfway. Brian let out a soft sigh at the feel of Justin's lips. The kiss was gentle and comforting, not at all sexual or passionate, yet it was also invigorating. They broke apart after a moment, and Brian felt Justin move his hand to briefly cup his cheek.

"Please. Go," Justin whispered.

Knowing it was useless to argue, and frankly too tired to try, Brian rolled his eyes and nodded wearily.

"I won't be long," Brian said pointedly before leaning down to press a soft kiss on Lindsay's forehead. He didn't look at Justin as he moved to the bed where Gus lay sleeping. Scooping up his son, Brian moved slowly to the door. With a brief glance over his shoulder he saw Justin watching him leave, and he felt his heart ache painfully in his chest. He'd just begun to heal from Justin's departure from Pittsburgh, how was he supposed to heal again when Sunshine decided to leave Toronto and return to New York?

* * *

Gus woke up on the cab ride to Mel and Linds' place. He was confused, and spent the remainder of the brief ride crying and clinging to Brian and his teddy bear.

When they arrived at Mel and Lindsay's large, Victorian-style home, Brian found he didn't want to go inside the house. He didn't want to talk to anyone, or see anyone, or deal with anyone. He didn't want to see sad, sympathetic faces and people crying and waxing poetic over memories of years past. But Gus…he needed a bath, and his own bed, and the comfort of people who loved him. He needed his Grandma Deb and his baby sister.

Hoisting a whimpering Gus into his arms, Brian slowly trudged up the walk to the front door. He rang the bell once. He'd realized, only after he'd paid the cab, he didn't have a key to get in. It was still fairly early so he hoped someone was awake to let him in.

It wasn't long before a robed Deb opened the door. Her eyes were heavy with sleep, but when she saw Brian and Gus they widened and she ushered them in quickly, wrapping her arms around them both as she shut the door behind them.

After being hugged by Deb, Brian immediately took Gus up to his room and stripping him of his dirty clothes, he put him to bed with clean pajamas. Gus struggled for only a few minutes before he fell asleep again, and Brian felt his heart grow heavy with guilt. His son should have been home already – not spending two nights sleeping in a hospital; one night on a lounge couch and the other in a bed next to his unconscious, maybe paralyzed, mother. He still needed a bath, too. Suddenly Brian didn't feel like his actions as a father were off to a very good start.

Descending the stairs to the kitchen, drawn by the scent of fresh brewed coffee, Brian found Debbie, Carl, Michael and Ben all sitting around the large table the lesbians had in the breakfast nook of their Toronto home. They were all bleary-eyed, and they were all cupping steaming mugs of brew in their hands. Brian assumed JR, Hunter, Ted and Emmett were all still asleep and he felt a flash of angry jealousy; he wanted nothing more than curl up in a bed and sleep for days...to forget everything that had happened for just a little while…

"How's Lindsay?" Michael asked as Brian helped himself to some of the gourmet brew. It smelled positively divine after what he'd been forced to drink at the hospital the past two days.

"She woke up for a moment last night," Brian said, sitting at the table with a sigh. He saw everyone's eyes widen and they all leaned towards him, anxious for more information.

"I told her about Mel," Brian continued, "and she had a meltdown and had to be sedated. Justin's with her now so I can clean up. I'm going to go back shortly. I have to be there-," Brian stopped suddenly, not in the mood to bare his expectations of himself to the table. He sighed and sipping the coffee again, ignoring everyone's sympathetic looks.

"Justin? Justin's here?" Michael's expression betrayed his confusion, and Brian thought he heard a trace of irritation in his voice as well.

"Yeah, he showed up this morning," Brian replied, staring at his friend. It was no secret that there really was no love lost between Justin and Michael. It had taken time, but the two of them had finally seemed to come to some sort of mutual understanding regarding their relationship with each other, and the importance of the other in Brian's life. Then, after Justin had left for New York Michael, thinking he was defending his best friend, had ranted about the younger man's 'abandonment'. It had taken Brian almost two weeks straight of defending Justin, of trying to make Michael, and many of his other friends, understand that what had happened was a mutual decision between the two men. No one seemed to understand how parting ways was a good thing, and Brian was nearly ready to give up trying to make anyone understand. Then just as quickly they'd all shut up about it – at least to Brian's face. He just hoped Michael wasn't regressing because he really didn't have the energy to deal with Michael's shit right now.

"Well I'm glad he came," Debbie blurted, her voice harsh and admonishing as she shot a look at Michael that indicated she was not thrilled with his tone either. "We're a family. And we should all be together right now."

"Brian, honey, please tell Sunshine to come here when he leaves the hospital," Debbie's hand shot out and lighted upon Brian's, patting it lightly. "I'll make up another air mattress and he can share a room with Hunter. Unless you and he…"

Her voice trailed off then, and Brian felt four pairs of eyes on him. He just closed his eyes. Fuck.

Avoiding answering Debbie's unasked question, Brian sipped his coffee once more before he stood from the table. He couldn't handle any more conversation. "I've got to get back."

He turned then, leaving the others sitting there as he went up the stairs and showered and shaved in record time; at least record time for him.

* * *

Gus was still sleeping when Brian left the house to return to the hospital. He told Deb to call him when he woke, and warned her that he might be a bit panicked and upset to find Brian gone. He promised he'd be back before nightfall, but also told her that if Gus was too emotional to let him know and he'd come back to the house right away. The last thing he wanted to do was add to Gus's emotional stress.

At the hospital, Brian was strangely relieved to find Lindsay was still unconscious. He watched for several minutes from the doorway while Justin sat with her, holding her hand and gently stroking his thumb over the smooth skin. He could remember what that felt like, the gentle touch of Sunshine's fingers as they traced soft lines up and down Brian's body, knowing just where to linger to drive him over the edge…

"Thanks for staying," Brian said softly, clearing his head of those memories and walking fully into the room. He smiled slightly when he saw Justin jump in his chair.

"Anytime," Justin nodded back. He looked around then, his brow furrowed. "Where's Gus?"

"Left him at home," Brian moved to stand next to Justin's chair. He gazed down on his two blonde loves.

"Deb wants you at the house, whenever you're ready. She's setting up a space for you to sleep," Brian added, "how long are you planning to stay?"

He hoped his question sounded nonchalant, but he feared it sounded as desperate spoken out loud as it had sounded in his head. Brian had a million more questions he wanted to ask on top of that one. How was New York? Did he have a job? How was his roommate? Had he found a studio space? How was the night life?

Though if he were honest, Brian wasn't sure he really wanted to know the answer to that last question.

"I'm not sure how long I'm staying," Justin stood then, and Brian felt the heat from his body hit him in radiating waves. "You don't mind if I stay at the house?"

It was a loaded question and Brian felt his pulse quicken slightly at the perceived inflection and innuendo in Justin's voice. But he had to keep cool. He didn't want to let on how miserable he really was, how much he was craving comfort from the blonde. He couldn't be weak. He couldn't give Sunshine any reason to feel guilty for leaving when he decided he had to go back to the city…because eventually he would go back, and he had to feel like it was okay that he was.

Brian tried to keep his expression blank as he shrugged, "Why the fuck would I mind."

Justin just smiled and nodded.

They stared at each other for several long moments and Brian felt the electric charge in the room grow as the tension between them intensified. Just then the doctor came in, interrupting them. Justin excused himself, leaving Brian alone with the doctor.

"She's doing incredibly well for the injuries she sustained. I feel confident we can schedule the spinal surgery in the next week or so," the doctor nodded as he spoke, his eyes never leaving the pages of Lindsay's chart, "I'll consult with the neurosurgeon this morning and get back with you."

"Then how long before she's moved to the States?" Brian asked, instinctually moving to stand at the head of the bed. He rested his hand on Lindsay's shoulder.

"It's hard to say," the doctor hung Lindsay's chart back on the hook at the end of the bed and looked at Brian. "It depends on many things but most importantly what damage there is to the spinal cord. That's really going to be the deciding factor here."

Brian nodded.

"She was sedated last night and it's been almost 14 hours. Shouldn't she be waking up?" Brian inquired.

"Her body is still healing. The sedatives likely have worn off, but the process of healing is exhausting and sleep is the body's way to conserve energy and to make the healing process successful. I wouldn't be too concerned just yet. I'll be sure to have a nurse check in on her every hour."

"Sure," Brian sighed, giving the doctor a fake smile as he left the room.

"Fuck," he whispered as the white coat turned at the door and disappeared from view.

Brian turned back to Lindsay, his eyes trailing down her still form, lingering on the shape of her legs beneath the thin sheet. He hoped, prayed even, that she would be okay.

"Everything alright?" Justin spoke from the doorway.

"Fuck if I know," Brian replied with irritation as he turned to look at him, shrugging.

Justin again simply nodded. He was watching Brian with that look again. It was an almost amused expression and Brian felt himself growing enraged. He knew what Justin was thinking; that Brian was putting on a show, masking some deeper pain and emotion by pretending not to care. He might be partly right – Brian was wearing a mask – but it wasn't for the reasons Justin thought. It wasn't all to do with Lindsay…

"What?" Brian asked with a grumble.

Justin just smiled wider and shook his head. He walked into the room slowly, his eyes fixed on Brian.

Feet planted to the spot next to the head of Lindsay's bed, Brian watched him approach with a growing realization of what was about to happen. He wanted it to happen, yet he also did not want it to happen. Still, he didn't move as the blonde slowly sauntered up to him, stopping not a few inches away.

Justin's hands reached out, landing lightly on Brian's shoulders and then Justin was pulling Brian to him, his hands working through his hair as he held Brian tight, cradling his head to his shoulder.

Slow to respond, Brian was impassive for a moment before he let himself melt into Justin's embrace, bringing his own arms up to wrap tightly around Justin's narrow torso. He felt thinner, Brian thought fleetingly as he squeezed tight, allowing all his emotions to be communicated through the embrace. When he felt Justin start to loosen his hold Brian dropped his arms and pulled back. He didn't get far though before Justin was pulling him back to him, pressing his lips to Brian's.

The kiss, like the one earlier, was gentle and comforting, but this time with an underlying trace of passion and lust. Brian felt Justin's tongue dart out and gently prod at Brian's lips. Giving himself up completely to the much-missed and long-desired taste of Justin's mouth, Brian parted his lips and let the kiss develop into something wonderful and sweet. His hands found their way to Sunshine's hair, and Brian let his fingers twirl and dive and get tangled and lost in the thick locks of the blonde.

A moan that didn't originate from either Brian or Justin brought both men back to reality. Brian pulled away from Justin and looking down he saw Lindsay's eyes, slightly unfocused, watching them. Her expression was pained, but still she gave them a small, crooked smile.

"Don't stop on my account," she croaked and when Justin laughed, Brian allowed himself to crack a smile too.

"I'm glad you're okay," Justin turned to Lindsay and placed his hands on her arm.

"I'm glad you're here," she replied, her voice a gravelly whisper her eyes moving from Justin to Brian as she spoke. Brian felt the underlying meaning of her words and feeling very self-conscious suddenly, he started to move towards the foot of the bed where a rolling tray table had a plastic pitcher and cup sitting atop it.

"Let me get you some water," he said stiffly.

"I'll do it," Justin reached a hand out and grasping Brian's forearm as he passed, pulled him to a stop. "You stay. I'll get the water. And ice," Justin looked from Brian to Lindsay and smiled warmly.

Lindsay nodded slowly, closing her eyes for a moment. Brian knew she had to be reliving the awful moments when she'd last woken up and he couldn't help but feel responsible for all the pain she was feeling. It might not have been his fault directly, but being the bearer of bad, or rather devastating news had left him feeling partially responsible.

As Justin left the room, Brian resumed his position at Lindsay's bedside, sinking back into the hard chair and threading his fingers through Lindsay's, the cord of the pulse-ox monitor that was attached to her pointer finger, caught between their hands.

"How long have I been out," Lindsay whispered. Her eyes were still closed.

"The accident happened two days ago," Brian said softly, feeling Lindsay's grip tighten before she spoke again.

"And Mel is…"

"Yes," Brian said.

"Fuck," Lindsay tried to yell but her vocal cords, dry from days of unconsciousness and being unused, refused to elicit more than a louder whisper.

"Where is she?"

"Where?" Brian wasn't sure he understood her question. Melanie was dead. He thought Lindsay had understood that. "She's gone, Linds."

"I know," she breathed out heavily. "Where is the bo-…where is she Brian?"

Then it clicked, what she was trying to ask him.

"She's back in Pittsburgh," Brian glanced at the time on the wall clock, "and she's been buried for about fifteen hours now."

"What? Buried? What did you do?" Lindsay's eyes popped open.

"She's Jewish," Brian said as if it was obvious.

"So? You couldn't wait for me to wake up, so I could say-," she choked back a sob, "I didn't get to say goodbye."

"Linds. She's Jewish. No embalming," Brian hated to be crass but there it was.

Lindsay's face scrunched up in and she nodded.

"So who arranged everything," she asked.

"Mikey and I set up the burial and getting her body back to the Pitts," Brian felt awful for Lindsay. He knew it was terribly unfair that she didn't a chance to say goodbye. "You were unconscious; I had the rights and the power so we took care of it."

"As soon as we get back to Pittsburgh and you're well, we'll go the grave site and have a ceremony," Brain added, "if you want."

"What about Mel's parents?" Lindsay asked and Brian shrugged.

"Fuck if I know," he said, "I thought they disowned Mel because she missed some sort of holiday or something?"

A voice came from the doorway then as Justin cleared his throat and shook the pitcher, which sounded like it was full of ice water. Brian suddenly remembered a similar scene from the night Gus was born, when Melanie had come back into the room where he and Lindsay had been commiserating over creating a new life, shaking a pitcher of ice. It made him feel incredibly sad.

"Thank you, Justin," Lindsay smiled, accepting the cup of water from Justin, a bendy straw allowing her to drink from her supine position without spilling on herself.

"You're a good friend," Justin whispered to Brian as they stood side by side and let Lindsay rehydrate.

"Fuck you," Brian replied, seeing Justin smile at his retort. Brian wondered how much of the conversation he'd overheard.

"Where's Gus?" Lindsay asked, her voice sounding closer to normal now that she'd wetted her vocal cords.

"He's with Debbie and everyone at the house," Brian answered, "I'll bring him by later. I haven't told him anything yet."

Brian felt Justin's hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles. He never wanted him to stop.

"We'll tell him together," Lindsay sighed, raising her hands to her face and moaning out loud, "why did this happen?"

"I don't know but Linds," Brian bit at his lower lip as he waited for his friend to look at him. When she finally lowered her hands and looked at Brian he continued. "There's something else you need to know."

Her expression fell and again, Brian felt a resurgence of guilt at delivering more bad news.

"The doctors noticed you had swelling in your lower back," Brian paused and glanced at Justin automatically, getting the strength to continue from his strong gaze before he met Lindsay's eyes once more, "there might be damage to your spine."


	5. Sanctuary

"My spine? Is my back broken? Fuck," her voice was a whisper and Brian wanted to punch himself in the face, "am I paralyzed?"

"No," he replied emphatically, "I mean, I don't know."

Lindsay looked at him with confused incredulity, her eyes wide as she shook her head.

"You'll probably have to have another surgery so they can see. And maybe fix it. If there's anything that needs fixing," Brian added. Shit he was doing a piss-poor job of this. He needed the doctor…

Lindsay looked from him down to her feet and Brian watched as her expression focused. He shook his head, knowing she was probably trying to wiggle her toes. He held his breath, moving his eyes to her feet, draped under the sheet, and watched hopefully his eyes straining to see the slightest bit of movement. There was none.

"Fuck!" she exclaimed, punching the bed as tears started to slip from her eyes.

"Stop," Brian ordered, suddenly angry but unsure as to why. Was he mad because he'd upset Lindsay? Was he mad because she was mad? Was he mad because for the last three days he'd done nothing but worry and fret over her and Gus and now that she was awake she was showing emotions Brian didn't know how to handle?

"Fuck off," Lindsay growled. Brian sighed and looked at the ceiling.

"Can you go get a doctor," he said softly turning to look at Justin, who had been silently watching them from the foot of the second bed. He nodded and walked quickly from the room.

"Lindsay. I said maybe," Brian grasped her hand, "you could be just fine."

"Right," she laughed as tears continued to fall from her eyes. She wrenched her hand back from Brian, "because things have gone so well for me so far."

Brian, caught off guard by her strength, clenched his jaw. He should never have said anything to her. He should have waited for the doctor. All he'd done was make things worse.

"The kids are alive, you're alive. I'd say things could be worse," he spat back at her, more violently than he'd intended, frustrated not only with himself but also with Lindsay's defeatist attitude.

Her eyes narrowed at him for a moment before she wiped her face, "Mel isn't alive."

Brian wasn't sure what to say to that, but it didn't matter. Lindsay turned away from him to look out the windows. She wouldn't listen to anything he would say, anyway.

"I hear the patient is awake," the doctor that had spoken with Brian earlier came into the room then, Justin trailing just behind him.

Lindsay didn't turn away from the windows.

"I told her about the spinal damage," Brian said to him, "or rather the _possibility of it_."

Brian directed his last words towards Lindsay as the doctor moved to the other side of the bed, trying to get Lindsay's attention.

"Ms. Peterson," he smiled warmly, "I'm Dr. Patch. I'm going to examine you and then we can talk about what may or may not be happening with your back."

Brian saw the doctor glance briefly up at him as he spoke, and Brian didn't miss the look of resigned annoyance. He almost started laughing. He knew he'd fucked up – he didn't need the doctor to passive-aggressively admonish him like that.

Just as the doctor started examining Lindsay, Brian's phone rang. With a quick glance he saw the muncher's home number and turning, he quickly exited the room.

"Yeah," he answered, turning around just outside the door so he could keep an eye on the doctor and Lindsay. Brian thought he heard crying and screaming in the background before Debbie's shrill voice was coming over the line.

"You need to get back here," she demanded. "Gus is completely terrified and won't let anyone but Ben near him and he won't stop crying for you."

Brian pinched the bridge of his nose as he listened to Deb's words. He was afraid Gus would react badly to finding Brian gone when he woke up.

"I'm on my way," Brian sighed, ending the call and going back into the room.

The doctor was in the midst of measuring the amount of sensation Lindsay had in her legs and feet and Justin was standing awkwardly near the door; he flashed Brian a nervous smile as he came back in.

"Deb just called. Gus is upset so I need to go," Brian felt torn between taking care of his son and making sure his friend was okay. The doctor hadn't talked to her yet about the spinal injury and Brian wanted to be there to hear what he had to say. He wanted to be there for Lindsay.

"Go," Lindsay's expression was hard. "Gus comes first. Always. I'll be fine."

Nodding, Brian leaned down and kissed her lips softly, whispering, "I'll be back, Wendy."

Lindsay's expression softened somewhat as her hands cupped Brian's face and she nodded. Their eyes met for a moment before Brian pulled away a bit reluctantly.

"Come on, I'll give you a ride back to the house," Brian said softly to Justin.

Brian was just stepping over the threshold of the door when Lindsay called out to him.

"Bring Gus back later? Please?"

Turning to her Brian nodded, feeling a slight sense of progress, of forward motion, when Lindsay smiled. A genuine, relieved smile. Brian knew if anyone could make her feel better it'd be their son, even if it meant telling him about Melanie.

Brian led Justin to the car; Mel had purchased it just a few weeks prior. It was meant for Lindsay to use for her work, so it was small and gas efficient and therefore Brian hated it.

They rode in silence. Brian was distinctly aware of the proximity of the other man, yet felt incapable of doing anything about it. He had so many questions about New York, and what Justin had been up to the last several weeks they'd been apart; but he asked nothing. It wasn't the right time, and Brian wasn't sure if he was ready to hear good things; he wasn't sure he wanted to know that Justin loved being in the city; and he could only assume he did.

So they rode in silence.

* * *

"How long do you plan to stay?" Michael blurted after pleasantries had been exchanged.

Brian and Justin had just walked in the door to find everyone except Ben and the kids huddled around a coffee table playing poker. Emmett squealed happily when he saw Justin, and Deb cried out his nickname with the fullness of her vocal capabilities. The rest of the group greeted him in their own way and there were smiles, and a few tears, but generally everyone was happy to see Justin. Everyone it seemed except Michael.

"Michael," Brian's voice was a low growl. He leveled a harsh stare at his friend. Michael had no reason, no right, to be angry with Justin. As Brian had explained to him a million times, it was a mutual decision for Justin to go to New York. How many fucking times was he going to have to remind Michael of that before he stopped trying to hold Justin responsible; especially when there was nothing to be responsible for? He was living his life and that was what Brian wanted.

"Brian. It's fine," Justin looked to Brian with a gentle smile and Brian felt the lump he'd been swallowing for days try to rise in his throat once more. He forced it back down, but with some difficulty.

Justin just looked at Michael and smiled sadly, "It's good to see you to, Michael."

"Shit, ma!" Michael exclaimed suddenly, as Debbie slapped him upside the head.

"What happens between these two is none of your fucking business, so butt the hell out!" Debbie gripped Michael's chin as she shook her finger in his face.

Brian kept his eyes on Michael. He understood his friend's need to defend him, but he wished Mikey would just listen when Brian told him; he wished Mikey would listen when he told him that Justin didn't leave Brian behind; that he wasn't nursing a broken heart – even though sometimes he wondered if he was. He just wished Mikey would fucking listen…

"How are you, Sunshine? How's New York!" Debbie draped her arm around Justin's shoulders and guided him into the kitchen, Emmett and Ted trailing behind, all three peppering the younger man with question after question. Brian shrugged out of his jacket and stared at Michael, shaking his head. Carl and Hunter sat back down at the table and started to clear the game. The sound of poker chips filled the silence between Brian and his best friend.

"What?" Michael finally looked back at him a bit sheepishly.

"You," Brian sighed resignedly, "you're so fucking pathetic."

Michael offered a small, slightly ashamed looking smile.

The sound of tiny feet pounding down the stairs caught Brian and Michael's attention and they both turned to the staircase just in time to see Gus come running down. Still in his pajamas, he made a beeline for Brian. He barely had time to register the sad expression and wet face of his son before he was kneeling down and sweeping Gus up in his arms. The little boy hugged his neck and Brian felt the rough exterior of the cast rub against the back of his neck.

"Hey, sonny-boy," Brian squeezed him tight.

Gus didn't reply, he just wrapped his tiny arms and legs around Brian and sniffled.

Brian looked at Michael questioningly.

"He woke up screaming a little while ago," he answered, "ma went up to check on him and he just started yelling for you, over and over. He wouldn't let anyone near him. Finally Ben and I went to see what all the noise was about and when he saw Ben he quieted, but he still kept asking where you were and crying. He wouldn't eat or take a bath or anything."

Brian looked towards the stairs in time to see Ben appear at the bottom, likely having followed Gus down, but at a far less frantic pace. Brian nodded his thanks to the other man as he kissed Gus's head.

"Hey, Gus," Brian tried to pull back so he could look at his son's face but Gus wouldn't relinquish his hold.

Brian sighed, feeling slightly exasperated before he admonished himself. Gus was just a little boy and he'd just been through a trauma. He was allowed to be clingy and upset.

"Gus, someone's here to see you," Brian walked with his son towards the kitchen where the rest of the gang was gathered, laughing about something. Justin was wearing one of his trademark, Sunshine grins. Brian felt an ache at the sight of the smile.

"Look Gus, Justin is here," Brian once more tried to pry Gus off his neck. The room grew quiet as everyone looked at Brian and Gus. Brian saw Justin's grin transform then, becoming softer and more sympathetic as he watched Brian try to disentangle his son's arms. Gus, however, had other plans and refused to let go or look.

"Hi Gus," Justin approached Brian, meeting his eyes briefly before he disappeared around to Brian's back. Brian felt Gus turn his head as if he were trying to avoid looking at Justin.

"I was hoping you'd let me sign your cast," Justin's voice was soft, gentle. Brian felt Gus relax just a bit. "Maybe I can even draw something on it? That's one of the really cool things about wearing a cast. You can draw on it and have everyone you know sign their name."

Justin's voice was slightly hushed, as if he were sharing a tremendous secret. Brian suppressed a smile as Gus's little head nodded ever so slightly.

"Oh, yay! We can all sign it!" Emmett clapped and grinned as he and Ted started searching the kitchen drawers for markers and pens.

Watching everyone be so sweet and understanding with Gus, Brian felt the lump return again. This time though, Brian was powerless to control it – it was now too large to be swallowed and he felt his eyes well up, a single tear tracking down his cheek. He stared at Deb as it happened, and the woman who'd been his surrogate mother simply offered him a gentle smile before she approached him and gently wiped the tear away with her thumb. By the time Justin came back around to Brian's front side, and Emmett and Ted had scrounged up some Sharpie's in various colors, he'd regained his composure; no one but Deb the wiser.

Gus finally pulled back from his hold on Brian. "He's gonna draw on it," Gus smiled shyly at Brian.

"I know sonny-boy," Brian looked to Justin and for a moment it was only them in the room.

"Sit down daddy," Gus bucked in Brian's arms and with a light swat to Gus's rear, Brian moved to the table and sat in a chair, settling Gus on his lap and adjusting his cast on the tabletop so Justin would work his magic.

In the end, Gus had requested a scene of he and Brian at the park, on the swings. Justin acquiesced and the result, for a drawing done with Sharpie's on a fiberglass cast, was beautiful. Brian met Justin's eyes as the younger man put on the finishing touches. They stared at each other for a moment before Justin backed away and everyone else lined up to draw on and sign Gus's cast. Brian tried not to notice that Justin, standing in the corner of the kitchen with his head hung low, was alternately rubbing his right hand and clenching it in a fist that shook with the effort. Brian felt a momentary flash of anger at Chris Hobbs – the damage Justin sustained would be with him forever, a constant reminder. Brian looked to Gus then, taking in the fading bruises on his face, and the less red more pink laceration that was slowly healing on his face. Would Gus carry any physical scars after the accident? Scars that would always remind him of what happened? Lindsay would…

"You now, Daddy," Gus held out a black marker and Brian smiled, drawing a stick figure dog before signing.

Gus beamed with pride, examining all the sketches and names as he smiled at the room. Brian much preferred to see Gus smiling than to hear him crying. He turned his eyes back to Justin, concerned, but he was no longer massaging his hand. He was watching them with a small smile on his face.

"Alright, sonny-boy it's time for a bath," Brian lifted Gus from his lap and set him on his feet. "You're a little stinky."

Gus shook his head, looking up at him with a devilish grin. "You're stinky."

"Me?" Brian raised his eyebrows in mock surprise and Gus giggled, eliciting a few laughs from the others still hovering in the kitchen.

Reaching out his hands, Brian tickled Gus's tummy as he lifted him up and tossed him, firefighter style, over his shoulder. He met Justin's eyes once more and grinned. It made Brian feel good to know Justin was around…and he tried not to think about what would happen when he left.

He walked with Gus out of the kitchen and up the stairs. It was only after he'd left the others behind him that he realized he'd never given a child a bath in his life. Hell, he'd never even had occasion to bath Gus when he was a baby. He had no fucking clue.

In the kids' bathroom, he told Gus to strip off his pajamas as he turned on the water and adjusted the temperature. There were all sorts of baby toys littering the bottom of the tub and Brian wondered if JR and Gus were usually bathed together. It would make sense. Brian could vaguely remember being bathed with Claire when they were really little.

There was a soft knock on the bathroom door and then Debbie was poking her head into the bathroom.

"You okay doin' this?" she asked and Brian, dumping some bubble bath that stank like pink bubble gum into the water, barked a laugh.

"I've got to learn," he replied, not refusing her implied offer of help, but not outright accepting it from her either.

"Well here," she reached an arm into the room, holding out a plastic bag.

Brian stood and took the bag from Deb.

"What the fuck is this for?" he asked.

"Jesus Christ, language!"Debbie screeched. Brian cocked his eyebrow at her before chuckling. "And it's for his arm. You don't want the lining of that cast to get wet or it'll stink to the high heavens."

Brian nodded and with a smile to Gus, he tied the bag around the cast and helped Gus into the warm water.

"I think Ben came back from the hospital with some care instructions for the cast," Debbie added. "I'll see if he remembers what he did with them."

Brian just nodded, silently dismissing her as she closed the door.

It wasn't as bad as he thought it'd be, bathing him. The kid was pretty good at washing himself, aside from needing Brian's help to wash his hair and scrub his back. And aside from keeping his broken arm out of the water.

After the bath, and getting dressed, Brian and Gus descended the stairs. Everyone was sitting around the kitchen table and Brian briefly heard a chunk of the conversation, his name and the words New York hitting his ears before everyone fell suddenly silent at his presence.

"I'm taking Gus back to the hospital to see Lindsay," Brian informed them, ignoring their guilty looks. They all knew Gus didn't know about Mel yet, and he watched as the realization dawned on all of their faces, what taking Gus to the hospital meant.

"Do you want me to come along?" Justin started to stand from the table but Brian just shook his head.

"No."

Reaching down to grab Gus's hand, Brian smiled stiffly at the table of his friends, his eyes settling for a moment on Michael, holding JR while she played with some sort of book that had Velcro and buttons and stuff. He moved his gaze to settle next on Justin, who was looking at him stoically, seeming to send Brian strength. He wanted to tell him it was working – just his presence was giving Brian strength he didn't know he had.

"I'll be back later," he said to them all, but never taking his eyes off Sunshine.

* * *

"Remember what I said, Gus. Mommy is hurt. She can't get out of bed and we have to be very gentle when we hug her, okay?"

Brian was holding Gus's hand as they walked down the bustling corridor, heading towards Lindsay's room.

"I know," Gus replied with slight annoyance and Brian smirked.

"Okay. Just making sure," he replied.

Lindsay's door was open and Brian could hear the unmistakable sounds of daytime television music. Coming into the room, her face, which had been staring blankly at the wall-mounted television, brightened at the sight of them.

"Baby," she hit the power button on the remote and beckoned with her hand for them to come closer.

Brian picked Gus up and approached the bed with him. Lindsay's eyes were filling with tears again, but these were happy tears and Brian couldn't help but feel his own emotional roller coaster ride start all over again.

Brian sat Gus on the bed, at Lindsay's shoulder, and he watched as his son tenderly wrapped his arms around his mother.

"You're hurt, mommy?" he asked when Lindsay finally let go of him.

"Oh I'm okay," she smiled. Brian watched her hand gently trace the edge of the cut that crossed Gus's forehead.

"I might be here for a little while, though," she smiled through her tears and Brian could tell it was forced. "So you listen to daddy, and Grandma Deb. Be a good boy."

Gus nodded.

"Look what Justin drawed!" Gus suddenly thrust his cast into Lindsay's face, causing her to laugh with surprise. She lightly gripped the cast and examined all the drawings and signatures, a smile on her face.

"You can sign it too, mommy," Gus said solemnly and Brian smiled.

"I will in a little bit, okay?" She pressed her lips to his uninjured cheek and smiled at Brian.

"But first your daddy and I need to tell you something. Something sad," Lindsay looked back at Brian briefly before she looked at Gus.

Brian felt sick to his stomach suddenly, as he pulled over one of the chairs and sat near Lindsay's waist, facing her and their son.

"It's about mama," Lindsay bit her lower lip before looking pleadingly at Brian. It was obvious neither of them knew how in the hell to break the news to Gus.

"Where's mama?" Gus asked, for the first time since the accident. "She can put her name too."

"Gus," Brian paused taking a deep breath, "Sonny-boy – your mama isn't here."

Gus looked at Brian with confusion. His tiny brow crinkled as he took in Brian's words.

"Why not?" he asked finally and Brian sighed, shaking his head. This fucking sucked.

"She's gone to heaven," he blurted, fully aware that as a Jew she didn't believe in such things, but Gus was a kid and heaven was a place he could conceptualize.

"Heaven?" Gus looked from Brian back to Lindsay. "Up in the sky?"

Lindsay nodded, her eyes near overflowing from pools of tears.

"When will she come back?" Gus asked.

"She's not coming back, pal," Brian said softly, his hand reaching out to rest on Gus's back. He needed to have physical contact with his son – it was as much for his own reassurance as for Gus.

Gus was silent for a long moment and Brian feared he still didn't quite understand.

"But I want her to sign my cast," he said, a trace of fear and sorrow in his voice now.

"I'm sorry, baby," Lindsay smoothed his hair away from his forehead, tears streaking down her face freely now.

Brian stared at them, his little unconventional family, and sighed.

Yep. This whole thing fucking sucked.

* * *

He couldn't be at the house any longer or he would go mad. JR was crying in Ben's arms while Debbie and Michael argued over how to prepare her bottle. Ted and Emmett were sitting in front of the television watching some terribly depressing old movie Brian didn't recognize. Carl, Justin and Hunter were sitting at the table playing dominoes. Only Gus was quiet – but that was because he was already in bed.

After telling Gus about Melanie, Brian had brought him back to the house. Lindsay promised she was okay – that she and Brian would talk again the following day. She needed time alone, she told him. So he did as she requested and returned to the house. He played with Gus for the rest of the afternoon, some soccer out in the backyard, then they colored, then they played some board games. After dinner, Brian put him to bed. The poor kid had been practically asleep at the table.

Gus was sleeping a lot since the accident. When Brian asked the doctor about it he said it was normal. That once the shock and trauma started to wear off he'd resume his regular schedule.

Once Gus was down and it was just the adults left to amuse themselves, Brian found he didn't know what to do. He'd been taking care of others for the last almost five days and had forgotten, momentarily, how to take care of himself. He'd been confined to either a hospital or a house that wasn't his for days and was beginning to feel trapped. There was noise coming at him from all directions and no matter where he went in the house he couldn't escape it, he couldn't get a moment alone.

The evening stretched on and Brian felt more and more restless. He paced the house, trying to find something, somewhere, to distract him but he couldn't escape the noise; the talking; the laughing. He just wanted a moment of silence and peace. Finally, unable to take another moment of it Brian grabbed his leather jacket and strode out the door. He heard the questioning voice of Justin calling after him, but he gave no response.

Mel and Linds had bought their house in an area of town that was just adjacent to downtown. It was an area being revitalized by young families that wanted to live in the city but also wanted the feel of a suburban neighborhood, so Brian just walked. He wasn't sure where in Toronto was the gay part of town, so he just let his feet take him where they wanted. They'd never failed him before and he was sure they'd lead him to some sort of release again. He needed something, anything, that demanded nothing of him. No decisions to be made, no phone calls to make, no funerals to arrange, no young children to look after. Just numbness and pleasure and a moment to forget the shit storm of his life.

He wasn't sure how long he walked. He wasn't even sure where he was walking. He fleetingly wondered if he'd be able to find his way back to the house – then he decided that for the night he didn't care. Then he saw the neon sign above the double red doors and a long line of men in see through tops and skin tight pants waiting behind velvet ropes. The heavy thumpa-thumpa that escaped when the doors opened to let out man after man told Brian he'd found the right place.

Score.

* * *

"Brian?" Justin's voice penetrated the darkness and Brian, drunk and feeling oddly detached from reality, looked up from his spot on the sofa to see the blonde slowly creeping down the stairs. He didn't answer. He didn't know what to say and he wanted to be left alone. To wallow. He rarely allowed himself the luxury of wallowing but if anyone deserved it of late it was Brian.

He shifted his weight slightly, grimacing at the squeak of the leather jacket against the upholstery of the sofa. He saw Justin pause and lean forward to look into the dark living room. Brian slouched even lower, hopeful that his head and shoulders were low enough Justin wouldn't see his profile in the low light penetrating the room from the street lamp outside the house.

"Brian," He was at the bottom of the stairs. His voice was no longer questioning, but knowing.

Shit. He had been sighted.

"What are you doing sitting in the dark," Justin was in the room now. Brian could just make out his silhouette. His hair, always perfectly coifed even after a marathon night of fucking, was sticking up slightly in the back and Brian let out an involuntary snort of laughter.

A lamp switched on then and Brian groaned loudly, covering his eyes with his hand.

"What the fuck," he mumbled, squinting against the sudden, harsh light. Justin just stared at him, not really smiling but not quite frowning, either.

"What," Brian lowered his hands, his eyes adjusting to the change in light. Justin's expression sobered him momentarily and his stomach tightened in anticipation of some 'serious discussion'. Justin liked to have 'serious discussions' and Brian was drunk enough to show a few (or all) of the chinks in the chains that held back his most private thoughts, and that meant he was in very real danger of possibly saying too much.

"What's going on with you?" Justin asked gently, moving to sit next to Brian. They weren't quite touching, but he was close enough that Brian could smell his toothpaste.

"What do you mean, what's going on? Nothing's going on. I went out for a few drinks. To unwind. I think I deserve that much," Brian acted like Justin was being ridiculous. It was all he could do, it was the only defense he had left that was in his control and even that was threatening to abandon him; leaving him wide open for emotions and feelings and with that, the pain he was trying so hard to forget about…

"Brian," Justin's voice was tired and pathetic and Brian rolled his eyes.

"Justin," he mimicked, immediately regretting it when a flash of irritation and sadness crossed Sunshine's face.

"Fuck," Brian whispered, leaning forward slightly and pulling off his leather coat. He was wearing his favorite black button-down shirt – the one with the white accent threads. But it was too hot. He felt confined, restricted, tied up, trapped; even with the shirt was already unbuttoned to the base of his sternum. Brian knew he had a perfectly sculpted chest and it was an attribute he flaunted proudly. Guys loved to feel him up while they sucked him off. Brian quite enjoyed it and he knew Justin loved it too…

Justin.

"Why are you still here?" Brian asked, his voice so low he barely heard the words himself.

"Why am I…?" Justin repeated and Brian nodded, lifting his hands to unbutton more of his shirt. It was so damn hot…

"Yeah? Why?" Brian felt the sane part of his brain leave him then. He was abandoned. Left with nothing but all the emotions and that was no good. The sane part of him was what protected him from getting hurt. It was what maintained that infamous barrier, keeping everyone but a small, select few, at a safe distance, unable to inflict any real pain. But now it was gone and Brian could feel his tongue speaking words of its own accord, no filter, things he'd never say if he had all his faculties; if he wasn't fucking drunk and high as a kite.

"I'm trying to let you go," Brian blurted, pulling the shirt off his body and tossing it on top of his leather jacket. He stared at his feet, at his Prada shoes which were scuffed. Fuck. How'd they get scuffed?

"Let me go?" Justin's voice sounded far away. And sad. Shit. Brian hated it when Justin was sad…

"No one ever accused me of holding on to something too tight," Brian said, pulling off one of his shoes, "except maybe my youth."

He laughed then, a maniacal sort of chortle that was reserved for particularly bad times. Like when his teenage lover was bashed in the head by a psycho homophobe, or when his mother took him to church and he learned she respected her gay minister more than her own son, or when his best friend told him she was taking his son and moving to fucking Canada.

"Who the hell moves to Canada?" Brian asked suddenly, looking at Justin finally and falling into the deep blue pools of his eyes.

"God, you're beautiful," he whispered, than he wondered why he'd said that. He didn't say shit like that, not out loud. He was Brian-fucking-Kinney.

"Shit. Brian," Justin's voice was mournful and awful and sadder than ever and Brian wanted to wrap his arms around him and feel his lips on his chest but he was so tired now. He couldn't even muster the energy to take off his second shoe.

Justin moved then. He stood up and suddenly he was standing in front of Brian.

"Want me to suck you off?" Brian asked with a curl of his lip. He tried to reach his hands out to the grasp the tiny waist of his lover but his arms wouldn't respond how he wanted them too so he gave up.

Lover? Did he really say that? They _were_ lovers…were they _still_ lovers? Could they be considered lovers when they hadn't talked for almost six weeks and hadn't fucked in as much time?

Brian still loved him. Was that enough to make it true?

"Are you happy in New York, Sunshine?" Brian asked with a heavy heart while Justin kneeled down in front of him and pulled off his second shoe.

"Lay down," Justin soothed, gently gripping Brian's shoulders and guiding him down. The sofa was quite plush and Brian let his body sink into the soft cushions.

"I just want you to be happy," Brian whispered, his eyes closing and his brain starting to shut down all operations. His tongue wanted to say more, his body wanted to do more, but he was done saying and doing.

The last thing Brian remembered before he blacked out was the touch of Justin's hand on his face, and the soft flutter of the blanket that he laid over him.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you all for your kind comments. I appreciate your reading :)**


	6. Poses

Brian woke up early, the sunlight streaming in the east-facing front windows of the house and hitting him square in the face making sleep impossible. Groaning with effort, Brian sat up then immediately regretted it. His head throbbed, his stomach churned, and his mouth felt as if it were stuffed with cotton. It had been years since he'd drank so much in one night to wake up feeling this bad.

Taking a moment to collect himself, he slowly swung his legs onto the floor before standing unsteadily and stumbled into the kitchen. As he moved he grew keenly aware of an ache in his groin; an ache that meant one thing – Brian had gotten lucky last night, and multiple times. The only problem was he couldn't remember anything. Feeling for the money clip he kept in the front pocket of his jeans, Brian pulled it out to find the four condoms he routinely carried, stashed in the middle of his wad of cash, gone. He breathed a sigh of relief that at least it appeared he had remembered to be safe, no matter how wasted he'd been. Still, it was unsettling not to remember with whom he'd done what.

The clock on the microwave said 6:55am and Brian cursed the brightness and early hour of the morning as he filled a glass with water. Standing at the sink Brian drank it thirstily in an attempt to get rid of the awful cotton-mouth. Downing the full glass, he made his way to the small half-bath to relieve his full bladder. It wasn't lost on him that his dick was red and tender to touch. There was no question he got lucky last night; many, many times it would seem but the more he tried to remember the worse the ache in his head became. Searching the small medicine cabinet above the sink he found a bottle of aspirin and he palmed four of the white, chalky tabs. Returning to the kitchen he swallowed the bitter pills before he began to brew up a pot of coffee.

It was bugging him, his inability to remember most of the night. What had he done? He could vaguely remember the club, the sign out front flashing alternately bright pink and yellow. The club itself was a foggy memory and only vague images of naked men dancing in cages – not unlike what used to be at Babylon – played in his head. There had been black lights, too…maybe? What was the place called? Vertigo? As he searched his memory for clues to his evening's activities the only thing he could distinctly remember going inside and checking his coat. Things after that immediately began to blur until there was nothing but a blank slate, time unaccounted for. He wasn't even entirely sure how he got back to the house, or who tucked him in on the sofa.

It was a little frightening, in actuality. For all the partying Brian had done in his youth, he'd never allowed himself to lose control when he was alone and unprotected by his friends. He'd never been unable to remember at least some the things he'd participated in. Even if it had to be Mikey to reminde him of his escapades the next morning at breakfast, he was always able to recall at least a sense of the scene. Never was there just nothing; just blackness. But last night he _had_ been alone and he had probably taken drugs from a stranger, something he prided himself on not doing (or rarely doing, anyway). He placed his hand on his crotch gently cupping his dick, the ache seeming to intensify the more he thought about it and the more he cursed at himself. He hoped he'd at least enjoyed himself.

Brian heard movement above him; padded footsteps crossing the floor and stepping lightly down the stairs. He stood from the table in the kitchen and went back into the living room, pulling on his discarded shirt just as Justin appeared at the base of the staircase.

Brian felt the blonde's gaze on him as he looked down to button up his shirt. His fingers were tingling, slightly numb and wouldn't quite work right; yet another side effect of his apparently wild night on the town.

"How are you feeling this morning?"

There was a hint of teasing in Justin's voice and Brian smiled sardonically.

"Fucking fantastic," he said, raising his eyes to meet Justin's look.

Justin nodded, a knowing smirk on his face. Brian wanted to return the smirk, but he couldn't in all honesty tease and flirt when he couldn't even remember what he'd done; besides, he felt far too shitty to even attempt to play games. But, based on the look on his face and the tone of his voice, Brian could guess it had been Justin who had taken care of him when he'd come back to the house.

His shirt buttoned, Brian moved slowly back to the kitchen, Justin's padded, shuffling footsteps following him.

"Want some coffee?" Brian offered, searching the cupboards for mugs.

"Sure," Justin replied. Brian glanced over his shoulder at him. He was sitting at the table, watching him move around the kitchen. Brian wondered if he could tell he was sore. He felt a flash of guilt, than scolded himself; he was under no obligation to Justin, he was allowed to fuck anyone he wanted…

He wasn't sure he believed that himself.

Busying himself with preparing the coffee, Brian avoided turning back around and facing him. They were alone, for practically the first time since Justin had shown up the day before…had it really just been the day before? Brian couldn't even remember anymore; he wasn't even sure what day of the week it was; hell, he could barely remember when it was that February had ended, or how far into March they now were.

Returning to the table with two mugs of coffee, Brian offered one steaming mug to Justin, their fingers touching momentarily as he passed it to the blonde.

"Tell me about New York," Brian sat opposite Justin, finally broaching the subject he'd been tiptoeing around and avoiding for the last…well…since Justin had left Pittsburgh. "How is it?"

"It's okay," Justin answered unconvincingly, at least Brian was unconvinced, "Daphne's friend is a little weird and her place is a total dump. But otherwise it's fine."

_Fine_. God, Brian hated that word. It was completely noncommittal and most of the time when it was used the person using it meant exactly the opposite of its definition.

"I'm probably better off than most. I mean, there are a lot of starving artists in the city," Justin added with a shrug.

Brian nodded slowly, his head throbbing with the action. The aspirin he'd taken hadn't kicked in yet and every movement of his head or his eyes amplified the pounding headache. Justin was resilient; a survivor. Brian had no doubt he'd make it work.

"Why haven't you called" Justin asked suddenly, catching Brian off-guard with the unexpected, or rather unexpected at that precise moment, question. His expression was painfully open, his blue eyes searching Brian's face.

The truthful answer to that question wasn't something he could tell him, not yet, maybe not ever. Brian didn't want Justin basing his decisions on him. He didn't want Justin living each day waiting for him to call, or visit, or ask him to come back to Pittsburgh. Maybe it was narcissistic to think he possessed such power over him – but their history was a proven record of it and Brian didn't think it was too off-base to think this way. So he was attempting to give Justin the freedom to be on his own and have his own life experiences that weren't related directly or tangentially to Brian. He refused be the reason Justin gave up on pursuing his dreams - whatever they were and wherever they took him. If they ended up leading him back to Brian it would be because it was what he wanted, not because Brian had harangued him back; not because he was the "safe" option; not because he hadn't let him go freely and without provocation.

He wasn't going to be Justin's safety net. He wanted him to go, and he wanted him to choose to come back. He hoped he would choose to come back.

All these thoughts flashed through Brian's aching head before he shrugged noncommittally. He knew Justin would see through any feeble excuse he might come up with and it was just easier not to say anything. Brian was pretty sure Justin already knew the reasons he hadn't called anyway, and the question was simply his way of letting Brian know his silence hadn't gone unnoticed.

"Find a job yet?" Brian asked, diverting the conversation back to Justin. The blonde sighed with obvious frustration, shaking his head before he answered.

"No. No job. No studio yet either. I looked at a few spaces last week but everything is so fucking expensive," Justin shrugged, "When I get back I've got a few more places to check out."

Brian nodded, the offer to give him help with securing a studio ready to leap from the tip of his tongue. He bit it back though, knowing it'd only irritate Justin. Plus, any help from him would be counter-productive to his plan of letting the younger man fend for himself and figure out what he wanted.

"When will that be?" Brian sipped his coffee while he contemplated the man before him.

"When will what be?" Justin asked.

"When will you go back," Brian clarified.

"Oh. Uh…I haven't really thought about it," he shrugged. "My ticket was only one way."

The sound of movement overhead caused both men to look up at the ceiling. They heard heavy footsteps, doors opening and closing and then a few minutes later Deb and Carl came wandering down into the kitchen. Not long after, the others started trickling down and Brian sighed as he locked eyes with Justin; another day, and still things between he and Justin were unresolved; there was so much Brian still wished and wanted to say, but he didn't. Or couldn't; or wouldn't? He didn't know which was true.

Deb fixed a large breakfast for everyone, Brian ignoring the questioning looks he was getting from his friends when he didn't answer their questions or rise to their bait regarding his night out. He was simply thankful his headache was abating and his stomach was settling thus enabling him to do his part to clear every plate Deb had prepared of food.

After breakfast it was announced that Ted, Emmett, Carl and Hunter all were returning to Pittsburgh. The following day was Monday; the start of a new work week and they had to return for various work-related reasons. Ted specifically wanted to be sure the Kinnetik offices didn't fall into pandemonium with no one but Cynthia there to wrangle people. Brian was certain she could handle it, but he didn't argue with Ted. The fact was he would be glad when there were fewer people hovering around. Still, Brian was tremendously thankful to have Ted to help out. He really had become a good friend and was someone Brian felt he could rely on and trust – at least with his business endeavors. He made a mental note to be sure Ted received a generous bonus at the end of the year.

The four of them intended to go the hospital to see Lindsay before they headed to the airport, so Brian hung around the house for the morning, allowing them some time before he planned to head to the hospital himself. He was feeling anxious and nervous to hear from Linds about her back and so he found himself pacing around the house, unable to sit still for even a few minutes.

Justin, much to Brian's relief, entertained Gus with drawing and coloring. Brian was thankful his son had inherited his mother's talent and interest in art and that it could hold his attention. Plus, with Justin as a distraction for his son it allowed Brian to take a shower and spend some time alone. He retreated to Mel and Lindsay's bedroom, looking around at their photographs and décor and thinking; about everything and nothing at the same time. He thought a lot about Justin, and Gus, and Lindsay. He even thought about Melanie. Mostly he thought about his life and how it was permanently altered forever. What that meant for him and where it might go from here. He had no answers, just what seemed an infinite number of questions and he left the room more confused about everything then when he'd gone in.

When it was time for Brian to head to the hospital he braced himself for a fight from Gus. He didn't want to take his son back there yet again, but he worried that Gus wouldn't let him leave without having another breakdown. The problem was compounded when Deb told Brian she wanted to come with him to see Lindsay.

Justin came to the rescue, then, offering to stay with Gus and though the little boy looked quite dubious at the suggestion, he let Brian go with only a slight, whimpering cry.

As they drove to the hospital, Brian could sense Debbie watching him. He could sense Deb was about to engage him in one of her 'talks'.

"How're you doing, honey?" she finally asked, her tone gentle, and absent of all pretense.

Brian just shrugged, keeping his eyes forward on the road.

"You can't fool me, you know," Debbie continued, "I can tell you want to crawl out of your skin. But here you are, taking care of Lindsay, and taking care of Gus. You're a good man. When you want to be."

Brian felt his mouth quirk in a sort of smile. He appreciated Deb's frankness and most of the time was extremely glad she could read him so well – allowing him to maintain his façade but also allowing him to silently admit to his feelings. It worked for them. Sometimes though, sometimes he hated that she could see so clearly through him. He had a feeling this little chat might be one of the latter.

"He adores you, you know," Debbie said with some amusement.

"I am adorable," Brian replied with a quick sidelong glance at his surrogate mother.

"You are. But I don't mean Gus," Debbie leveled her gaze at Brian. There was something in her look that made Brian nervous, and he turned back to watch the road.

"What's going on with you two?"

Brian was silent. He didn't really know what was going on. They'd both agreed that Justin needed to go to New York; that he had to pursue his art there; take advantage of the fact that his name was being spoken and written by very influential people. But after that…they never really talked about the after part. Only that yes, they loved each other but never what that would mean for the time they were apart. Justin had tried to address it, trying to convince them both that they'd last long-distance, that they'd see each other all the time. Brian knew better – he feared better.

Similar to when Justin had been in LA, a part of him couldn't imagine he would want to leave New York City once he was there. Why would he want to come back to Pittsburgh? What he was doing now was protecting himself from the eventual, expected heartbreak. Why not? Why prolong the inevitable, or what Brian saw as the inevitable, even if no one else did. Even if Justin was convinced they were destined, or fated, or whatever the fuck. Brian couldn't be that optimistic. It wasn't in him. So he did what he did best and cut off communication, severed all ties. If he didn't talk or see Justin he couldn't be hurt by him. Right?

It seemed logical at the time – when he had never expected to see him again…but now that he had seen him, and talked to him, and briefly tasted his lips he didn't know what was going on. He was finding it hard to turn off the fear, the anxiety, the loneliness.

"What happened when he left?" Debbie's voice was softer now, and Brian felt an urge to confess, to get her opinion. He knew it'd be honest, if not biased. He hadn't talked to a soul about it since Justin left and the anxiety of the situation was eating him up inside.

"I-," Brian started, but then stopped. He what? He had no idea. Everything was mixed up in his head, and he was questioning everything around him. It was too much to even talk about – the thought of trying to dissect everything giving him a headache. Lindsay had just lost Melanie, and Brian was willing to let Justin just walk out of his life? The man he loved, the only man he'd likely ever love…how could he just let him go when the mother of his son had just lost her lover, partner, wife? It was insensitive and stupid.

"Fuck," he groused, "I don't know."

"Well you need to figure it out," Debbie's tone was suddenly shrill as her admonishment turned motherly in spirit, "because it's driving everyone fucking crazy to see the two of you stealing sidelong glances at each other."

Brian must have made a face because Debbie laughed then.

"Oh yeah, don't think we all don't see it," she reached out and patted his knee.

"You need to talk to him."

Brian simply nodded – not in agreement, but in understanding. Sure, they _should_ talk. He knew that, but he didn't know if he _could_. The hospital came into view, then, and Brian was silently thankful.

* * *

Deb fawned over Lindsay while Brian stayed out in the hallway giving the women some privacy. He was lost in his own thoughts even though he could hear the two women talk, and laugh, and cry.

What was he going to do about Justin? Fuck, he was so damn confused.

When Deb came out of the room, she told Brian she'd be in the cafeteria and for him to take his time. She hugged him tightly then, catching him off guard and making him wonder what the hell the women had discussed.

Lindsay smiled at him when he came into the room, and he instantly felt better. She looked calmer, steadier, more like the fighter he knew she was.

"You look better today," he said, leaning over to kiss her as he sat in the still-warm chair at her bedside that Deb had recently vacated.

"I feel a little better," she smiled at Brian. "Having so many visitors helped, actually. And Deb. She knows how to put things into perspective."

Brian barked laughter. Oh, how he understood that.

"So what do the doctors say?" Brian asked the question that had been plaguing him for the last 24-hours.

"I'm having an MRI and a CT scan tomorrow. The swelling in my belly from the first surgery should be down by then they think they'll be able to see what damage there is."

She sighed, then, and smiled sadly at Brian.

"They definitely think there is spinal cord damage. I have no sensation or movement below the waist, and only a slight tingling sensation in my hips. They say that's a good sign, but I don't know."

Brian nodded, "Okay," he sighed, grasping at her hand.

"Shit, Brian. What if I'm paralyzed?" Lindsay's voice was barely a whisper and her eyes welled up as she looked pleadingly at Brian.

"We'll deal with it," Brian shrugged, trying to play down his own fears of that potential outcome. He patted her hand.

"We'll deal with it," he repeated, more for himself than for her.

* * *

The next several days found Brian trying to settle into some sort of routine. He'd work through the morning, go visit Linds mid-day, work through the afternoon until dinner, than spend the evening with Gus. Ben and Michael spent the day watching and taking care of JR, while Deb and Justin split the duties watching after Gus.

Brian was thankful for all the help which allowed him to work from the house. Still it was rough. Business for Kinnetik was really starting to take off yet being out of the office Brian felt strangely detached from it all and frustrated with technology and the process of trying to work remotely. He knew there were things he should be doing that he couldn't because he was in Toronto, and all he could do was hope that his clients understood his difficulties and didn't leave him in the interim.

Trying to manage the rebuild of Babylon was another story entirely and Brian found himself spending several hours a day on the phone with Ted going over everything for both businesses. On his third day working from Toronto, and after a particularly unproductive conversation, Brian decided to put a hold on the Babylon rebuild until he could oversee it in person. It was just too much to try and deal with remotely. He tried not to think about the money he would be losing.

Lindsay had her MRI and CT scan and did indeed have a partial separation at the lumbar spine, a result of the accident. The doctors scheduled her for surgery on Monday of the following week, hopeful that they could repair the damage and hopeful that she would regain feeling and movement in her legs. She was surprisingly cheerful as the week progressed and in addition to Brian's visits, daily visits from Michael and JR, and Justin and Gus helped keep her in good spirits.

Friday finally rolled around and Brian was just beginning to feel like he was starting to get a grip on his new schedule. Then, at dinner that night Deb, Michael and Ben informed him they were headed back to Pittsburgh on Sunday night. Ben had to get back to his classes and students, Michael couldn't afford to keep the comics shop closed any longer, and Deb was needed both back at the diner and to help take care of JR.

In addition to giving Lindsay time with the baby, during Michael's visits he and Lindsay discussed what to do with JR. Lindsay was still legally her parent, but as she was unable to take care of her they'd decided that for now she'd go back to Pittsburgh with Michael and Ben.

The day after Michael, Ben, and Deb left Toronto for Pittsburgh with JR in tow, was the day that Lindsay went back into surgery for her back. Brian went to the hospital, needing to be there for Lindsay even though the surgery would take hours. Brian was thankful Justin was still around and he happily kept Gus entertained at home.

When the doctors came out to let Brian know everything went smoothly, he heaved a sigh of relief before he felt his stomach contract painfully with hunger. He then realized he'd not eaten anything all day. Good news putting him in a good mood, Brian headed back to the house with a slight smile on his face, eager to celebrate the good news over dinner. Maybe things were starting to look up again.

When Brian got back to the house he found Justin and Gus sitting at the kitchen table coloring, scraps of paper and crayons scattered across the tabletop.

"Hey," Justin smiled warmly at Brian, and Brian felt his face automatically return the gesture, his good mood not allowing him to second guess and question every look and gesture Justin gave him, not like he had been doing for the last week.

"What's going on here?" Brian asked, taking off his jacket before falling into a chair opposite his two boys. His two boys? When did he start thinking of them that way?

"We're making a card for mommy," Gus answered without looking up, his tongue poking out of his mouth slightly as he carefully traced the edges of a shape on the page before him. Brian couldn't quite make out what was on the paper though it looked like it might say 'Get Well Soon' in wobbly, uneven, child-like letters.

"I think she'll like that," Brian replied, glancing at Justin whose blue eyes were watching Brian closely.

"How is she?" Justin asked, his voice casual, but Brian could hear an undercurrent of concern.

"The surgery went well, but we probably won't know for at least a day or more if she's regained any feeling," Brian watched Gus pull a blue crayon from the giant box that sat before him, even though several other shades of blue were already out of the box and on the table.

Out of the corner of his eye Brian saw Justin nod. Silence fell as they both watched Gus work on the card.

The last week had been like something out of a fantasy – and not any kind of fantasy Brian ever had or ever would have. Even with Michael and Ben and Deb around it was Justin who mainly watched over and took care of Gus. It was strange, and they lived that week in a state of pseudo-domesticity. It was something Brian had never craved yet found wasn't all that terrible to experience.

It had been working smoothly and Gus, who had previously been unwilling to be out of sight of Brian, was now handling separation from Brian like any other kid might. He still had nightmares and occasional moments of terror, but only once had Brian needed to stay with him in his bed while he fell back asleep.

As for sleeping arrangements for the two men…Brian and Justin were staying in separate rooms and they hadn't touched or kissed romantically since the day Justin had arrived; certainly not for lack of want. Brian could see it in Justin's expression – his desire. But Brian wouldn't let himself succumb. Part of it was that the house was full of people who were watching them and Brian, for the first time in his long, promiscuous life, didn't want them gossiping or knowing his business. Part of it was also Gus's presence, and another part of it was the growing dependency on Justin that Brian was developing. It scared him because he knew Justin's presence wasn't permanent. Eventually he would go back to New York and then what? Brian would be alone and expected to continue on as if nothing had changed and so he had to keep himself closed off; protected. Brian wouldn't let Justin get to him; he wouldn't let his touching excite him, or respond when he'd stand close or smile seductively. Brian turned off that part of his brain, or he tried too anyway. Every morning and every night he'd find himself alone in the shower taking care of business, thoughts and dreams of Justin having gotten to him despite his best efforts to the contrary.

Despite whatever might or might not happen between them, Brian was thankful for Justin's presence. He allowed himself to imagine at times that this was his life; that he and Justin were together raising Gus. It was frightening yet exciting because it worked; they were living that life, sort of. They were a little family, sort of.

"Is Justin my other daddy now?" Gus asked suddenly, startling Brian from his thoughts. Gus's eyes remained on the page he was coloring, his tiny fingers gripping the baby blue crayon as he focused his efforts on staying within the lines.

Brian's eyes nearly popped from his head as he looked from Gus to Justin. It was like Gus had been reading his mind. Justin's expression was as shocked as Brian's and he just shook his head as if to say he hadn't encouraged him or said anything to make Gus ask that question.

"No," Brian said slowly, cautiously, "why would you ask that?"

Gus shrugged, smiling up at him and Brian felt his annoyance melt away at the innocence his expression conveyed.

"I dunno. I had two mommies," Gus dropped the blue crayon into the pile on the table and searched diligently through the box before finally deciding on a shade of red.

Justin grinned and even Brian couldn't help the corners of his mouth twitching slightly even as he felt waves of nausea wash over him. This was all wrong.

"I guess that makes sense," he replied with a heavy heart before he stood from the table and ruffling Gus's hair, went to the fridge and pulled out a beer. He spent a few minutes standing, nursing his beer and watching Justin and Gus work on the card, his emotions boiling inside him, confusing him.

"How about we put this away and you can finish after dinner?" Brian asked, his voice surprising him with its unusual quiet and calm.

He felt exactly the opposite of quiet and calm on the inside. He was frantic and scared. It was as if something inside him had snapped at Gus's innocent question. The harsh reality of what they were doing causing Brian to crash back down to earth, and hard. They couldn't continue to play house like this. It wasn't fair to them, and it wasn't fair to Gus. The reasons they'd mutually agreed that Justin should go to New York still existed; and he needed to go back. Brian needed him to go back.

With a nod, Gus picked up a handful of the crayons that were scattered across the table along with the card he was working on and ran into the living room where he dumped all of it on the coffee table.

"Go wash your hands," Brian called out, still surprising himself with his new role of 'responsible parent'. It surprised him, too, how Gus responded to him when he acted 'fatherly'. This time was no different either, as he sprinted from the living room and up the stairs where Brian heard the bathroom door slam and water start running.

"Do you want to order in, or were you planning on making something?" Justin asked, his tone casual and comfortable. He was oblivious to Brian's change in mood. Closing his eyes and preparing himself for the difficult scene ahead of him, Brian drained the remainder of his beer before he threw it a little too aggressively into the recycle bin.

"Why the hell are you still here?" he snapped, immediately regretting his tone when Justin turned to look at him, his shocked, hurt expression painfully obvious.

"Don't you have a life to get back to living?" Brian added, slightly less abrasively but still with an edge.

As much as he might want, Justin couldn't stay and babysit Brian; and as much as Brian might want him to stay, to both help with Gus to and to provide the kind of comfort only he could (if Brian allowed him to), it wasn't fair to Justin. He needed to go back to New York. He needed to figure out what he wanted apart from Brian. He needed to live free from all the bullshit of Brian's dysfunctional life.

"Yeah," Justin nodded, his expression changing from shocked and hurt to hardened and closed off, his voice tinged with sadness and anger. He avoided Brian's gaze as he picked up the remaining crayons scattered across the table, shoving them back into the box haphazardly and forcefully, "I was thinking of heading back tomorrow anyway."

He was lying, of course. As well as Justin knew Brian, Brian also knew Justin and he knew he would never leave without giving plenty of warning. But Brian let the lie slide. It really didn't matter.

"Good. You should," Brian replied quietly as he sank back into one of the chairs at the table, suddenly drained of all emotion.

Brian watched in stony silence as Justin cleared up the mess he and Gus had made. Picking up the box of crayons, the scissors, and the stack of construction paper, Justin left the room without another word or glance at Brian – and closing his eyes Brian sighed heavily.

Gus's heavy footsteps pounded down the stairs and he came tearing back into the kitchen.

"Daddy can we have pizza?" he asked, his expression hopeful.

Brian nodded, suddenly not hungry at all.


	7. Laid

Brian woke up gasping for breath. His chest heaved, his face was damp with sweat, and his eyes were wet with a few unshed tears.

He'd had the dream again.

It was their last night together. They'd made love and afterwards Brian had held Justin until the last moment before he'd gone; leaving him alone and cold in his big, empty bed. In Brian's dream though, when he'd buried his head in Justin's neck and held him tight, instead of staying silent he'd asked him not to go; and Justin hadn't gone. Instead of lying alone in his bed, Brian had slept soundly with Justin beside him.

It was a dream that had been recurring since that night and while Brian didn't have it every night, it occurred enough to be a painful reminder of what he'd lost; what he was missing with Justin gone to New York.

Those weeks after the bombing, when Brian had allowed himself to acknowledge his feelings and speak them out loud, had been a sort of revolution for him. He felt like a man reborn; he felt not only genuine happiness for what seemed to be the first time in his life, but also a calming contentedness; a sense of home and security all because of Justin's presence in his life. He finally understood what his friends had been talking about for so long; he finally understood why they sought love for themselves.

He still had the playboy-Brian inside him, but his to let that part of himself free, his need for fucking strangers (as if that validated his manliness and desirability) or getting off in a bath house or some seedy club's backroom, was waning.

Sure, he could admit that he might have pushed things a little too far in the opposite direction, trying too hard to be the romantic Justin had proclaimed he'd always wanted, thus prompting the mutual decision to call off the wedding, but Brian really wasn't as far away from becoming that man as everyone around him might think; and that hurt more than anything. His friends couldn't see him changing; growing. Not even Justin saw that part of him, hiding just below the surface. Of course Brian had done everything he could to hide it; he had to give Justin the freedom he needed to take this chance and see what he could become.

The moment he'd realized they weren't ready for wedded bliss was when he'd stopped to admire Justin's painting, his gift to the munchers, at Mel and Linds's house back in Pittsburgh. Mel had even made it a point to remind Brian of Justin's exceptional talents as she quite pointedly stated that he was giving up a wonderful opportunity to be with him. Yep. That had been the "aha" moment for him.

Brian didn't think sacrifice, in the sense of giving up on personal dreams and desires, was worth less than love. He genuinely felt that love meant being true to oneself – even if that meant saying goodbye…be it for a day, or a month, or a year, or even forever…

He'd accepted Justin's departure as just that, Justin loving and respecting himself enough to take that chance. After all, the parts of Justin that needed and desired the pursuit art in New York were the same parts of Justin that Brian loved most. They were what made Justin _his_, they were the essence of him, and they also were what made his move to New York something he had to do.

It had taken time but Brian had eventually gotten used to Justin being gone. He'd stopped looking for him when he came back to the loft at night; he'd stopped expecting to hear his laugh at the diner; he'd stopped hoping he'd walk in the door of Woody's, shining his Sunshine smile.

He couldn't get used to being alone in his bed, though, and it had taken him a very long time before he felt okay to bring a trick back to the loft. He was afraid of disrespecting Justin, even though before he'd left they'd discussed it, and nothing between them was going to be different. They were still abiding by the same, years-old rules.

Mostly he was coping. He missed him, but was dealing with it; or so he told himself. At least the ache in his heart seemed to dull a little more each day.

Then the accident had happened…and he'd shown up unexpectedly…and Brian found his resolve crumbling. His edges were fraying, and he was finding himself reliving that same moment those many weeks ago when he'd said the three, second most important words to Justin, "_it's only time"._

It _was_ only time, but time was a fickle mistress and liked to play tricks on the heart.

Scrubbing his hands across his face, Brian glanced at the alarm clock; the glowing red numbers pierced the darkness, reading 4:56 AM.

After Brian had yelled Justin had retreated from the kitchen. Brian, despising himself for his behavior, had taken Gus out for pizza. Gus had been thrilled and oblivious to Brian's mood whereas Brian couldn't stop obsessing over how he'd acted; he'd been a giant dick.

Kicking off his blankets, Brian let the cool air of the room chill him. Gooseflesh rose on his arms and legs as his body heat leeched quickly from his exposed skin.

Justin hadn't emerged for the rest of the night, not even when, after they'd returned from dinner, Gus had knocked on his door asking for help finishing his card for Lindsay. Brian knew then that he'd really fucked up. He'd hurt him worse than he'd intended, or ever wanted.

Unable to lie still, Brian rolled out of bed and as quietly as he could, opened his door and crept down the hall, pausing outside Gus's room to peer in. His son was sprawled out on his bed, his blankets twisted around his waist while his casted arm draped over the teddy bear Brian had bought him at the hospital. Brian smiled in spite of himself before he quietly closed Gus's bedroom door.

Continuing down the hall, Brian passed JR's vacant nursery to arrive outside the guest room where Justin was sleeping. He paused at the door, pressing his ear to the wood and listening for any indication that Justin was awake. It was silent.

Brian stood in the hallway in his shorts, debating with himself. He knew he didn't want Justin to leave angry, yet he was treading dangerous territory if he went into the room. But he couldn't wait until morning; he couldn't say the things he wanted to say, or needed to say, in front of his son.

"Shit," he whispered, pressing his forehead to the wood as he stood in the hall outside the door with his hand resting on the doorknob. Knowing he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep if he returned to his room he sighed and told himself he'd just check on him, just look to see that he was sleeping okay.

Slowly turning the doorknob Brian pushed the door open, closing his eyes in a grimace as the hinges let out a loud, long creak. A sliver of yellow light from the night-light in the hallway pierced the darkness of the room and illuminated Justin's sleeping form. He was lying on his stomach, the sheets and blankets pulled up to his waist. His back was bare and his arms were raised, resting on the pillow and framing his head.

Slowly walking into the room, Brian stood over the bed watching him. His lips were slightly pursed and his eyes looked a little puffy. Even in sleep Brian could see the hurt he'd inflicted.

Leaning down, Brian pressed his hands to the mattress and as carefully as he could, he crawled onto the bed. He didn't know what he was doing; he wasn't sure what he hoped to accomplish; all he knew was that he was desperate - no - determined, to have one more moment with Justin, even if the younger man was unaware of it. Brian needed to lay with him, to be beside him and hear the comforting evenness of his breathing, to know his weight was just within reach, to feel the heat from his body radiate towards him.

The bed was only a double, and Justin was very nearly lying in the middle of the mattress so Brian found he had only a small sliver of a few feet to occupy without bumping into Justin and waking him. Lying on his back, Brian sighed and turned his head to look at him. Seemingly of its own accord, Brian's arm reached out and lightly touched the smooth skin of Justin's back. Immediately he saw the skin react to the touch, gooseflesh popping up on the younger man's skin. Brian both felt and heard Justin stir beside him.

Brian kept his hand on Justin, knowing he was tempting fate and that at any moment the other man could wake up, but also knowing a part of him hoped he would. In the darkness of the early morning Brian could pretend things were as they had been – that Justin wasn't leaving Brian alone once again.

Justin moaned lightly then, lifting his head and pressing his face down into his pillow before he turned to face the other direction. Brian was now staring at the back of his head, at the nape of his neck where his short blonde hairs were so light they appeared almost white.

Brian sat up then, taking one last look before he slowly rose from the bed. Feeling creepy and slightly stalkerish, he just stood and watched Justin sleep for several minutes. He debated what to do next. A very large part of him wanted to crawl back into the bed and just grab Justin, holding him close; he craved the comfort he knew he'd find in Justin's arms.

At last, tired of feeling so many emotions, he turned to leave offering a soft sigh. With one last glance over his shoulder, Brian took several steps towards the door when his big toe made direct contact with the foot of the bed frame.

"Fuck!" He exclaimed out loud, his eyes immediately beginning to water as the flash of pain radiated through his foot and shot up his leg.

With a deep breath he cursed under his breath and started limping out of the room. Then he heard movement in the bed and a soft voice thick with sleep spoke, freezing him on the spot.

"Brian?"

Turning, biting his lip against the pulsing pain in his toe, Brian raised his hand in an awkward wave.

"What are you doing?" Justin sat up, rubbing his hand across his eyes, the gesture quite endearing.

"Uh, nothing," Brian's shook his head, the throbbing in his toe slowly starting to abate. Justin's skin seemed to glow in the low light, and Brian just drank him in, admiring his slim frame and small but defined pectorals.

He stood lamely at the door as Justin just stared back at him, his expression betraying something of an expectation along with what seemed to be irritation.

"I, uh," Brian paused, swallowing loudly, "I had a dream."

Justin just raised his eyebrows as he leaned against the wall behind him.

"And," Brian took a slight, tentative step into the room, "I wanted to apologize. You know. For earlier."

Justin crossed his arms then, his eyebrows rising even higher on his forehead. Brian could have laughed at the cartoonishness of it.

"You were a complete and total dick," Justin stated matter-of-factly and with the typical sass Brian had grown accustomed to expecting from him when he was being chastised.

Brian nodded in agreement; it was all he could do. He had been a dick, and though what he had said was still true, he could've been gentler about it – he could have not blindsided Justin the way he had.

"I just…this…I can't…," Brian walked another step into the room and gestured with his hand. What the hell was he trying to say? He was so used to pretending he knew what he was doing that he'd forgotten how to admit when he didn't know.

"I don't know what the fuck I'm doing," he finally breathed out with a resigned sigh, dropping his arms and feeling his back slouch as his shoulders sagged and he allowed himself to express a moment of weakness.

Justin closed his eyes then, shaking his head. His eyes remained closed for what felt to Brian like an inordinate amount of time before they opened and he almost imperceptivity gestured with his head.

Brian turned and closed the bedroom door before he crossed to the bed. He stared down for a long moment.

"C'mon," Justin murmured, patting the bed.

Brian lowered himself slowly as Justin scooted over to give him more room.

"Are you ready to talk about what's going on?" Justin looked at him sternly.

Brian sighed again, feeling his defensive walls trying to go up; they were his automatic reaction, his default setting. He fought the instinct; forcing himself to remember that Justin was one of his safe zones, the person he could and had trusted with his heart and his emotions. He, of anyone, was the one person he could safely expose himself to without fear of reproach or judgment.

"I don't know if I can do this. With Gus," Brian said finally. He loved his son, but could he be a real dad? He sure as shit hadn't had a great role model.

"You've been doing it," Justin replied, his hand grasping Brian's and pulling it to his lap.

"With help from Deb," Brian closed his eyes, savoring the feel of Justin's hand in his, "and you."

"I can stay," Justin said, the tone in his voice indicating he knew what Brian's response would be.

Opening his eyes Brian shook his head before turning to look at Justin.

"No, you can't stay," he said firmly and Justin just snorted a bitter laugh.

"If I want to stay, I can," he said, his tone petulant. Brian rolled his eyes.

"I want you to go back to New York," Brian replied pointedly. "You've been there for nearly two months yet you still don't have a work space? Are you even painting?"

Justin let go of his hand, then, and Brian felt him shrug.

"It's not what I expected," he said finally. "I haven't been inspired to paint and it's so fucking expensive I can't find a space. I wanted to ask Lindsay for help in getting in contact with some of her connections there but then this accident happened and now it feels weird."

"All the more reason for you to go back," Brian said. He didn't want to sound callous or like he didn't care because the fact was he cared too much. If he and Justin were ever to have a chance with each other then Justin needed to try a hell of a lot harder to make it work in New York. He couldn't have a single doubt that he didn't do everything he wanted or needed to find the success he sought because if he left before he was satisfied he'd done all he could there, he'd come to resent Brian, and blame him for his perceived failures.

"You need to do this," Brian continued, "for you. Because if this," he gestured between Justin and himself, "is ever going to work you can't have any regrets. There can be no doubts about what you're doing there."

"Besides, it's all still new. You'll figure it out," Brian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his crossed legs and looking sideways at Justin, "you always do."

Justin smiled then and though it seemed genuine Brian thought he saw a trace of doubt.

"I could just as easily paint in Pittsburgh," Justin said, and Brian felt a strange sense of déjà vu.

They'd had this discussion before, after they'd cancelled the wedding. Sure, Justin could paint in Pittsburgh, but why do that when he could go to New York? When there were people in New York who wanted him there and would help him? It was stupid.

"Remember when I was going for that job in New York? Remember what I said to you when you threw that hissy fit about me leaving? How I would walk out the door and never look back?"

Justin nodded and rolled his eyes.

"That's you now. And I'm not saying you need to stay there forever, but you can't spend your time there thinking about what you may or may not be 'missing' in Pittsburgh," Brian raised his hands and did quotey-fingers, eliciting a tiny laugh from Justin.

"I'm serious," Brian smiled back.

"I'm not going to forget about you," Justin replied, the smile fading from his face and then it was Brian's turn to roll his eyes. Leave to the kid to throw his own words back in his face.

"I'm not asking you too. But you can't pine away for me either," Brian swallowed, "I won't be pining for you."

Justin looked at him with surprise and some shock before he laughed humorlessly.

"God, you're such a fucking asshole!" He exclaimed before he sighed, his hands covering his face for a moment before he turned to look at Brian.

"You do realize that not even two months ago we were planning a wedding? We were going to be married. Now, I've been here a week and you won't even look at me, or touch me, or apparently even think of me?"

"I'm looking at you now," Brian said, reaching out his hand and gently threading his fingers in Justin's, "and I'm touching you now."

"You know that's not what I mean," Justin raised his eyebrows.

Brian sighed and closed his eyes, leaning back and resting his head against the wall, stretching his legs out in front of him. He knew. God he knew.

"I already said goodbye to you," Brian's voice was quiet. He felt trepidation and uncertainty. Opening his eyes he rolled his head to the side and letting go of Justin's hand he reached out and let his fingers gingerly touch his hair.

"I don't know if I can do it again," he felt his voice catch on the last word, and he swallowed hard.

"Why does it have to be goodbye?" Justin's hand came up and grasped Brian's once more, pulling it down and pressing his palm against his chest.

"I'm not going to forget about you," Justin repeated, "for fuck's sake, I love you, asshole."

Brian couldn't voice the worry or the insecurity he felt. He couldn't say the words – that his greatest fear was Justin finding love and happiness in the city, and leaving Brian in Pittsburgh old and alone forever. He feared more than anything that Justin would grow to love New York so much that he'd never want to leave; that he'd find a younger, more romantic man who could make him happy in all the ways Brian had struggled and failed too; that he'd forget about Brian, the creepy old man who he once thought he'd loved.

Justin was still so damn young and Brian forgot that sometimes. He had been through so much, had shown, and still did show, a maturity beyond his years. Still, he was barely in his twenties. Should he be saddled with a man nearing his mid-thirties, who still partied like a twenty-something and stubbornly refused to grow up on anyone's timeline but his own?

It had to be goodbye; didn't it?

"Brian," Justin's voice was soft. He continued to hold Brian's palm to his chest while his other hand slowly traveled up Brian's arm and shoulder before it came to a rest on his cheek. Brian felt Justin's thumb gently stroking his stubbly skin while his fingers found purchase in Brian's hair, gently massaging into his scalp.

"It's not goodbye," Justin reiterated, leaning towards him.

A part of Brian had wanted this, why else would he have crawled into bed with him? But he knew when it was over and when Justin was gone that it was going to hurt again; more-so if they did this than if they didn't. But was Justin right? That it wasn't goodbye? Brian was afraid to hope for that, or rather he wasn't sure how to hope.

Justin's face was inches from Brian's, their eyes locked.

"Lindsay will be okay you know," Justin said, his expression earnest.

"You'll be okay, too," he added with a small smile.

"You think so," Brian mumbled and Justin laughed lightly. To Brian it sounded like tinkling glass.

"Yes," he replied, his fingers continuing to work their way through Brian's hair.

"This is all I wanted," Justin continued, moving his body slightly closer to Brian's.

Brian felt their legs graze and an electrical charge coursed through him. He closed his eyes momentarily.

"What is?" he asked, though he already knew. It was all he had wanted, too. But he also knew it was going to make Justin's departure all the more painful.

"_This_," Justin's fist closed in Brian's hair as he gently shook Brian's head. "You," he added, moving a little closer and forcing his leg between Brian's.

"I won't promise that I'll see you again, or even call," Brian said, trying to sound tough but even to his own ears it was weak.

Justin nodded, his expression bemused and Brian rolled his eyes. The little fucker was seeing through his mask once again.

"Let's just worry about the now," Justin said and Brian wanted to laugh.

The now was all he did worry about – because now was what was going to haunt him forever. He'd dream about it, like he'd dreamt for the last several weeks about the last time they were together.

"Besides," Justin smirked, "even if you won't come to New York to see me, I'll be coming back to the Pitts to see Lindsay."

"And Gus," Justin added after a short pause.

Justin's blue eyes changed then, they grew softer as they searched Brian's face. Brian felt his heart rate increase under his stare.

"You," Justin added finally, before he pulled Brian's head to him, pressing their lips gently together.

Brian allowed Justin to pull him to him, and he allowed Justin the kiss. When he felt the younger man's tongue try to gain entry to his mouth though, Brian pulled away.

"Stop," he whispered, his voice breaking on the word as he reached up and pulled the younger man's hand from his head.

"Please, Brian," Justin's expression was desperate, pained. He looked how Brian felt inside.

They continued to stare, Brian's will slowly crumbling as Justin begged with his eyes; begged to be loved and to be allowed to love Brian. He wanted to let him in, he wanted it so damn much. Hell he was hard already, just from the slight touches and the chaste kiss. But he was scared of opening up that well of emotions. The cracks were already starting to show, and Brian could feel them widening with each passing moment.

"Please," Justin repeated, leaning in, his mouth pressed to Brian's ear as he breathed the word.

Brian had always found it near impossible to resist that plea, having succumbed to Justin's requests many, many times because of it. It was his secret weapon, and Justin knew it. Brian was certain he saved its use for when it would have the greatest effect.

"I-," Brian opened his mouth to continue his protest but then Justin's teeth were biting gently at his ear; his lips were nibbling down his jaw and kissing his neck.

"Fuck," Brian groaned, surrendering the battle, at least for the night.

In one swift movement Brian rolled on top of Justin, pulling him down so they were lying flat on the bed. Brian's hands grasped each side of the blonde's head as their lips mashed together in heated passion. Lips and tongues and teeth crashed together. Brian held Justin's head steady, moving his own head back and forth, changing his angle of penetration as he devoured him – making up for nearly two months of lost time.

When he finally pulled back, breathless, Justin's face was flushed and hot. His eyes were clouded with lust and Brian, his immediate need sated, released his vice-grip on his head. Lowering his head once more, his lips met Justin's but with care this time.

Brian could feel Justin's cock growing hard beneath him. Keeping his mouth on him Brian shifted, moving to his knees so he was straddling the younger man and while his mouth worked on Justin, kissing and breathing and exploring his lips and ears and neck, Brian's hands traveled down the younger man's torso, reveling in the familiar feel of him. In response, Justin's hands gripped tight at Brian's hips before traveling up his back and pulling at him, trying to bring him back down.

Brian finally pulled away and sat up. He took in the younger man lying beneath him, lips swollen and used, chest heaving. Brian wondered for a moment if this would be their last time, if it really would be goodbye; much like how he had thought the time before had been the last time.

Regardless of Justin saying he'd be back to the Pitts to visit, if this was to be their last time Brian wanted to make it count. He wanted to take it slow and make it last. Just in case…

"Take off your shorts," Brian whispered as he climbed off Justin and removed his boxer-briefs.

Justin, as soon as Brian's weight was off him, reached down and kicked off his boxers. Brian sat on his knees on the edge of the bed as Justin lay back down on his back, his arms splayed out at his side as if he were offering himself up to Brian as a sacrifice.

His thin frame seemed even thinner and his ribs, which had always poked out, looked slightly more pronounced. Brian felt a slight fear grip at him that he wasn't eating enough, that he was too thin, probably skimping on food to save money. He said nothing; he wasn't his mother.

The cloud cover outside cleared and the moonlight illuminated the room, casting a bluish light onto the bed and bathing them both in soft light. The hue gave Justin an angelic look and Brian was thrust back in time, remembering standing at the bar in Babylon and seething with a jealousy that was both unfamiliar and exhilarating, watching Justin, wearing angel wings, dance on a platform while the throngs of gay men below all clamored to stuff dollar bills into his well-endowed basket.

Brian felt a crooked smile pass his lips as he stared down at the blonde. Who would have ever thought this would be the man to finally thaw Brian Kinney's cold heart.

From the moment Brian had first realized he was gay his type had been tall, dark, and thin. Not skinny, but not a beefcake all muscled up on 'roids either. His type was, fortunately or not, an image of himself. He was fully aware of how masochistic it was, yet he didn't care. Hell if given the opportunity, he would happily fuck himself. Sometimes though, sometimes he would stray from his type. If he saw a particularly hot, well-built guy dancing shirtless at Babylon, he'd go for it. He could appreciate various types of beauty, just preferred the type of beauty that reflected back at him in the mirror.

The one type he'd never found a real taste for was the small, slight twink. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd gone for that type before he'd met Justin. And it was less than the number of fingers he had on one hand.

Whatever it had been about Justin that had attracted him the night they'd met under the streetlight outside Babylon, he was seeing it again now. Whatever it had been that had grabbed Brian's attention and had pulled him in, Justin was exuding that same aura now. Brian blinked his eyes and suddenly the kid before him was seventeen, a virgin, and scared shitless as he rambled on about Tomb Raider and being ambidextrous…

As Brian stared at Justin, he started to squirm under the scrutiny.

"What," Justin laughed nervously, his left hand moving to wind through a section of hair at his temple.

Shaking his head, Brian climbed back on top of Justin, grinding his hips and swollen dick against him as his mouth kissed tenderly along his hairline, stopping at the site of the severe injury that had almost stolen his life.

"Just remembering how scared shitless you were the first time," Brian murmured as his fingers took over and gently worked at Justin's hair. He looked into the blue eyes he knew so well and wondered why he'd been pushing him away for the last week. Why he'd refused this closeness, this comfort. Everything seemed okay now that he was with Justin.

Then he remembered – Justin was leaving to return to New York. That was why…

"Christ," Justin laughed, his hands rising to finger the hair at the nape of Brian's neck.

Brian chuckled, then let the smile slip from his lips as he pressed his mouth to Justin's, easing his tongue out and gently pressing it, asking permission for entry rather than forcing it. Justin opened his mouth right away, and Brian's tongue explored and tangoed with Justin's as his hands grasped at the blonde's head. Brian's thirst for the taste of him could not be quenched, and he could not get close enough.

Justin's hands traveled from Brian's head, down his back before gripping at his ass, squeezing gently while pulling down and thrusting his hips upward, grinding their cocks together.

Moaning into Justin's mouth, Brian broke the kiss to once again look into the eyes of the other man. He wanted to memorize this moment.

"Do it," Justin coaxed, his hips thrusting up once more causing Brian to groan softly.

Brian ran his hands down Justin's body, his lips and teeth softly kissing and biting as they followed.

"Turn over," Brian whispered thickly, and Justin obliged.

Brian smiled to himself before he put his mouth at the small of Justin's back, licking and kissing around his full, round ass but not venturing into the gay man's Mecca just yet. His hands groped and massaged at Justin's back while he circled the sweet spot. He waited until Justin's panting and writhing were more of a distraction then a turn on before he gently spread his cheeks and let his tongue dart out, licking and tasting his sweet, tight hole.

Justin panted and cursed softly as Brian worked on him, easing his hole open with his tongue, and then with his fingers. Finally unable to stand it any longer, Brian wordlessly rose to his knees and roughly rolled Justin over so they were once again facing each other.

Their eyes locked and Brian started to reach blindly for a condom, forgetting for a moment he wasn't back at the loft with a bowl full of them on his nightstand.

"Fuck," the trance broken, he punched the mattress as he started to climb off the bed.

"What? Where are you going?" Justin sat up on his elbows, his expression betraying a terror that Brian knew what his fault. It seemed Justin thought he was leaving him unsatisfied.

"I don't have a condom," Brian stood at the end of bed, his dick throbbing, dripping precum, and begging to be touched and sucked; begging to be inside Justin and fucking his brains out.

"I have condoms," Justin laughed, rolling off the other side of the bed and digging around his suitcase he pulled out a small shaving kit and removed several condoms along with a small tube of lube.

"Hopeful, I see," Brian smirked as he rounded the end of the bed to stand in front of Justin.

Shrugging, Justin looked up at Brian with a guilty sort of innocence that sent a shiver down Brian's spine.

No longer in the mood to tease, Brian placed his palms against Justin's chest and gently pushed him back until he fell onto the bed. Hovering over him for a moment he then leaned down, placing one hand on either side of his hips and after another long, sensuous kiss, he pulled a condom from Justin's hands and with his teeth ripped it open, passing it back to the younger man.

Justin grasped Brian's cock, pumping it for a minute or two before he rolled the condom down, his lips nipping and biting at Brian's chest and neck. When the condom was secure and lubed up, Justin scooted further across the bed, falling on his back and opening his legs. Brian could just see, in the moonlight, his puckered hole. It was calling out to him, begging him to fuck it.

Brian, his fingers in Justin's ass, took one more trip up and down Justin's body with his mouth. The younger man moaned below him and Brian was more than happy to enter him then, savoring the sweet, hot, tightness that welcomed him as he slowly pressed in.

After, Justin retrieved a warm washcloth and with gentle care cleaned both of them up. Brian stayed in Justin's bed through the night, holding the other man against his chest and savoring the feel of their naked bodies touching. Savoring the feel of Justin's heart beat against his chest, the way their breathing synchronized as they journeyed closer to sleep.

Before he fell asleep Brian allowed himself, for that brief moment in time, to fantasize that the moment would never end.


	8. Black and Blue

When Brian woke up he was alone. For a moment he wondered if he hadn't dreamt the encounter with Justin but then he realized he wasn't in his own room, or rather the room he'd claimed as his own while he was living at Mel and Lindsay's. Exhaling with relief that it hadn't all been a dream, he reached a hand out to where Justin had been curled up beside him what felt like only moments before, but when he felt nothing but the coolness of the sheets his chest seized and he felt a sharp pang of fear that Justin had already left without saying goodbye. The anxiety faded when his ears detected the distinctly familiar sound of padded footsteps in the hall. He peered through heavy eyelids to see the creaky door open revealing Justin, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt.

"Hey," he said softly, his eyes locking with Brian's before he closed the door behind him and moved across the room towards the bed. Brian watched him appreciatively, drinking in the slightly tousled hair and the sleepy look in his bright, blue eyes.

"What time is it?" Brian finally croaked, squinting slightly from the bright, diffuse sunlight that was coming through the sheer-curtained windows. He felt exhausted. It hadn't been a restful night – though it had been a highly satisfying one.

"Seven," Justin threw back the covers and the cocoon of warmth that had been wrapped tightly around Brian broke apart, the cool air a shock to his system. He involuntarily shivered before reaching out and grabbing Justin, dragging him down and then pulling the covers up over both their bodies.

"Fuck, it's cold," he said, draping his arm across the blonde's chest while he nuzzled his nose against the soft hairs in the crook of Justin's neck, inhaling the familiar scent of sex, sweat, shampoo, and soap.

"Gus is up," Justin said quietly as his fingers threaded lightly through Brian's hair.

"It would seem my days of sleeping in until noon are over," Brian murmured, fighting the exhaustion that was slowly trying to entice him back into dreamland. He could easily submit to it with his arms around Justin, the body heat from the other man comforting and familiar. It would not be hard to drift off once more. His eyelids were already heavy, falling closed no matter how hard Brian struggled to keep them open.

"I heard him in the hall calling for you so I got him up. He's downstairs putting the finishing touches on his card for Lindsay," Justin rolled to his side and kissed Brian lightly on the lips. "He's expecting me to bring you back downstairs."

"Fuck," Brian groaned, laughing softly when Justin lightly punched his stomach. Forcing open his eyes he yawned, offering a crooked smile at Justin.

"Stop it," Justin kissed him again then pulled away. "Come on."

"We don't have time…?" Brian waggled his eyebrows as he tried to hold Justin down.

The younger man wouldn't have it though, and with a strength Brian was unprepared to counter he pulled away and stood from the bed, tossing Brian's underwear at him, "Come on."

Brian sighed and threw back the covers, gooseflesh immediately popping up on his body. Justin stood at the door waiting as he pulled on his shorts and then they stopped by his room so he could put on his own sweat pants and t-shirt before he followed Justin downstairs.

"Hey Sonny-boy," Brian roughly ruffled Gus's hair as he came into the kitchen, grinning as his son squirmed away, his expression morphing into annoyance.

"Want some waffles for breakfast?" Brian asked as he watched Justin take a seat at the table next to Gus. The two of them seemed not to hear him as their heads bowed together and they conferred in quiet voices about the card that Gus was still meticulously working on. One would think they were trying to recreate the Mona Lisa with the intensity they both seemed to have for the simple get well card. Shaking his head slightly, Brian turned to the task of making breakfast.

"Waffles," he murmured, searching the cabinets for the waffle mix and the waffle iron, both of which he knew where hidden away somewhere.

Brian felt surprisingly comfortable in the kitchen, making waffles for his two boys as they sat at the table and worked. It felt incredibly natural, and Brian was shocked to find he didn't feel the urge to ruin it. He was pretty sure it was because he was focusing on giving Gus some sense of normalcy but even still, it felt like a big step.

In between making waffles, Brian pulled down plates and silverware and got the orange juice out of the fridge, pouring Gus and Justin each a glass and setting them on the table. Justin looked up at him then, smiling, and Brian once again felt like this could all be real. He and Justin could actually live this way. But instead of bringing him a sense of joy, it brought the illusion crashing down and then Brian ruined it completely.

"What time is your flight?" Brian asked, not allowing himself to dwell in the imaginary scenario because the truth was, Justin was leaving and thinking about how things could be different would only make his departure all the more painful. Things weren't going to be different, at least not now and who knew if ever, so there was no sense in pretending.

Justin's expression morphed into confusion and Brian sighed inwardly. Justin had already allowed himself to accept things were different - that what had happened last night had changed things – even though Brian had explicitly said it hadn't. Brian almost allowed himself to regret going to him in the night…almost.

"I'm not leaving," Justin finally said, very slowly as his wide, blue eyes bored into Brian's.

Brian sighed and Justin rose from the table.

"Brian…," Justin's tone was full of warning, as if he were, by speaking his name, telling him that in no uncertain terms was he going. That there was nothing Brian could do or say that could force him to go. He'd decided. He was staying. Brian saw Gus turn to watch them with wide-eyed with curiosity.

"Justin is leaving?" Gus said then, his face betraying disappointment and sadness that mirrored what Brian felt inside, but which he kept hidden.

"Yes," he said at the same time Justin exclaimed, "No!"

"Yes," Brian said again, looking at Justin pointedly. He felt his stubborn insistence bolstered by the younger man's rebellious expression.

"I want you to go back," Brian said, frustrated that he had to explain himself again, "I need you to go back."

"_You_ need you to go back," Brian added after a pause. Nothing was different, nothing had changed. What he'd told him the previous night was all still true. He tried to convey that in his expression.

Brian watched Justin shake his head, mouth agape as he stared at him with a pained expression Brian didn't like to see. He didn't want to hurt Justin, ever. He wanted him to be happy – and that was precisely why he had to go back.

"Please," Brian said softly his eyes searching Justin's, sloughing off all pretenses to make him understand why this was so important to him. Why he needed Justin to go away now so he could hopefully come back later, and for good.

"Daddy!" Gus's shriek startled both Brian and Justin, who followed the anxious pointing finger of the little boy to see black smoke billowing from the waffle iron.

"Fuck!" Brian quickly unplugged the appliance before moving it swiftly to the sink where he dumped the burnt waffle, still smoking as it fell to the bottom of the porcelain, a stark contrast of black on white.

When Brian heard Gus laugh he turned to look and saw his son covering his mouth with his hands. Brian couldn't help but elicit a chuckle at the sight and pretty soon all three of them were laughing together.

No more waffle incidents occurred as Brian finished making breakfast, the disagreement with Justin forgotten for the moment. Instead, when breakfast was ready the two men and Gus sat together at the table, telling knock-knock jokes and laughing. Brian tried to ignore the fact that Justin's smile and eyes weren't as bright as they'd been the night before.

For Brian, that breakfast was strangely one of the happiest moments he'd had in weeks; not since Justin had finally accepted his proposal - when they had stood together inside the estate he'd purchased (for his prince, he'd said), the warmth from the fire he'd built just barely reaching out its tendrils to warm the cold, dusty room. Brian still wasn't sure he really ever wanted to get married but at that moment, in that house that symbolized the future, when he'd bared his soul to the man he loved and had been accepted for it, not rejected or laughed at, well, it had been a revelation. At that moment he had allowed himself to consider maybe he did deserve a small bit of happiness. It was short-lived of course, the happiness, as things between he and Justin changed and they both became vague shadows of who they really were, both trying to be something they weren't for the benefit of the other.

But that moment also yielded something more. At Britin, as Justin had christened it, Brian learned acceptance. A seed was planted that allowed him to finally and truly accept another person's love, openly and freely. He wasn't quite aware it was there, but he knew enough to recognize that something in him had changed. Even when he tried to resist it, the seed persisted. It lingered inside, tickling at the back of his brain, attempting to take root and grow. He suppressed it, when he acknowledged it, yet still it grew stronger.

That's how Brian knew that he would be truly capable, someday, of giving himself wholly to someone; to Justin. He hoped. Should Justin still want him.

So eating waffles and laughing with his son and his blonde Sunshine – at that moment he was happy. It was a glimpse of a possible future taking place right before his eyes. Even under the tragic circumstances that had brought them together in that place. But it was food and water and shelter for that seed – all the things required for it to survive - and whether Brian realized it or not, the seed was growing stronger.

After eating, Justin cleared the dishes while Gus showed Brian the card he had made for Lindsay. It was quite good, for being drawn and written by a four-and-a-half year-old little boy. Brian could see Justin's hand on it too, but it was, in the end, done by Gus.

The outside boasted the typical "Get Well" slogan, the letters colored in the spectrum of the rainbow, fancy embellishments on each letter. Inside the card was a child's rendering of Lindsay, Brian, and Gus in a park, not unlike the sketch Justin did on Gus's cast. What caught Brian's attention though was the inclusion of Melanie, floating in the sky above them. When Gus questioned if his mommy would like it, Brian had no doubt in answering. She would love it he'd replied, and probably cry he thought to himself.

When Brian sent Gus upstairs to wash up and get dressed for the day, he and Justin just stared at each other in silence for several minutes. Brian knew what was coming – they had an unfinished disagreement to clear up. Steeling his shoulders Brian hardened his expression and waited for what was coming.

"I know you want me to go-," Justin started, but before he could continue Brian cut him off.

"We talked about this," Brian said with a sigh, "you can't have any doubts. No regrets, and if you don't go back you'll regret it, and this," Brian gestured between them, "would fail."

"How do you know? Maybe what I'll regret more is not fucking staying!" Justin replied, his tone laced with frustration.

Brian didn't respond. He just stared at Justin and waited for the younger man to come to the realization on his own. Brian didn't want to voice how he knew…and everything in him hated even _thinking_ about how he knew because when he allowed himself to think about it, it simply hurt. It hurt because every time Justin had left him in the past, it had boiled down to the younger man having doubts, and regrets, and desires that Brian wouldn't fulfill. He couldn't live through that again. Not now.

Brian wasn't one to live in the past but with Justin and New York and everything going on in the younger man's life he had too – their past informed everything between them in the present; and maybe they didn't have to necessarily live in it, but they had to be cognizant of it. Everything between them had been shaped and formed by the years of discovery they'd lived, both together and separate from each other. For Justin, the journey wasn't even close to being over; and while it wasn't over for Brian either, Brian had lived through most of it already – enough at least to know who he was, and enough to know that Justin hadn't figured that out yet for himself – at least not fully. That was why he _had_ to go; he had to find out who he was separate from Brian and Pittsburgh and everything that could possibly hold him back. He had to realize his full potential now – had to live this opportunity out to its conclusion, whatever and whenever that was, before he could ever be truly happy coming back to Brian.

If that was even still something he would want by the time he was ready…and that was a risk Brian was willing to take. He was once again taking a chance on love.

"I know," Justin finally said with a breathy exhale, his expression clouded as he avoided Brian's gaze. "Fuck. I know."

Not quite an hour later, Justin's bag was packed and at the door while he and Gus put a few finishing touches on the card. Justin had embellished it with a decorative border, and was helping Gus shade the border with some blue crayons. Brian watched them together, marveling at how easy Gus was with Justin, and how easy Justin was with Gus.

_If only…_

_No_.

As Brian had to continue reminding himself, if there was to be any hope of he and Justin coming together again, then Justin had to do this, on his own. Brian was stubbornly certain of that, even as he continually tried to talk himself out of it. It was going to be hard as hell to let him go; already it hurt like a motherfucker to have him so close only to have to watch, willingly, as he walked away. But this time was different, and Brian tried very hard to believe it. This time it wasn't because of a fiddler, or Cancer, or Hollywood, or future dreams never to be realized should they stay together. It was in the hope their separate paths would bring them back together again.

When the car horn honked a few minutes later, Brian felt a tug at his heart. Heaviness, unlike any he'd felt since Justin's first departure, gripped him with its finality. He tried desperately to remain hopeful but a small part of him was certain this would be a final goodbye.

At the table where he sat with Gus, Brian saw Justin stiffen at the sound before turning to look at Brian with the unasked question in his eyes; _Are you sure?_ Brian nodded, watching as Justin closed his eyes before he stood slowly.

"Time for me to go," he said softly, touching Gus's hair with an affection that gave Brian pause.

"I don't want you to go," Gus said with a mournful voice.

"I know buddy, but I'll see you again soon," Justin said softly, looking at Brian momentarily before he started towards the door.

"Everyone leaves," Gus said softly.

Justin was already at the door and apparently out of earshot as he didn't react to Gus's desperate statement. Brian did hear it though and his worry for his son, which had been easy to set aside when the house was full of people to distract him from the recent loss, renewed itself. Maybe he wasn't doing as well as Brian had previously thought.

"Come on, Sonny-boy," Brian gently pressed Gus, nudging him towards the open front door. Brian could see the narrow form of Justin just over the threshold, his back to the house as he waved at the cab idling on the street.

For a March day in Toronto it was surprisingly warm and Brian felt just a slight chill in the air as he came out the door. Justin turned then, wrapping his arms tight around Brian's neck and pressing his lips to his ear.

"I love you," he whispered.

Brian's gut contracted painfully and he felt the same three words form on his tongue. He wanted to say it back so badly, but he couldn't make the words take form. So he swallowed the declaration and wrapped his arms tighter around the younger man, burying his face in the crook of his neck. He memorized the feel of him, unsure of when or if he'd see him again. Unsure that when or if he _did_ see him again that something like this would even be allowed.

Justin let go after a long moment, avoiding Brian's gaze as he crouched down and gave Gus a hug. He whispered something to the little boy and then both of them looked at Brian with co-conspiratorial smiles before Justin stood. He looked between Brian and Gus for a few more moments before he turned and started down the walk to the street where the taxi waited to take him to the airport.

Brian felt a wave of panic, a sudden fear that this really was it - the last time he'd ever see Justin and he couldn't let him go – not without knowing...

"Justin!" Brian called out, hoping the blonde hadn't heard the hint of desperation in his voice. He took one step down from the wood porch as Justin, halfway down the walk, turned to look at him. His name was rarely spoken but often thought, and the feel of it was sweet on Brian's tongue.

He tried then. He opened his mouth, intending to say those three words that had only crossed his lips maybe a dozen times prior, but still no sound would emerge. Pressing his lips together, he breathed deeply before he tried again but still, nothing.

Justin stood silent, watching, a smile playing on his lips. When he nodded, flashing his trademark 'sunshine' grin, Brian exhaled with some relief. He had gotten it; he had understood what Brian was trying to say.

Knowing that made watching him get into the cab and leave somehow bearable.

* * *

After Justin's departure, Brian secured Gus in front of the television with the promise that he wouldn't move or answer the phone or the door, before he went upstairs to get ready for another day. With Justin gone, Brian was now the sole adult in the house with Gus and for a few moments, alone in the shower, he allowed himself to feel panic. He was now responsible, every day, all day, for feeding, and caring, and watching his young son. He'd done it before, for hours at time but never like what he was facing. He wasn't scared, per se, rather unsure of what to expect. He realized as he dressed how much he relied on Deb, and Justin, to keep an eye on Gus – particularly during the day when Brian had work to take care of. He made a mental note to contact a nanny service to see about getting someone into the house during the day so he could at least continue making money. Thankfully, Cynthia and Ted had been incredibly helpful in keeping Kinnetik running in Brian's absence and he felt grateful to have such loyal employees he could trust. Still, there were certain decisions and meetings and papers that only Brian could handle, so it wasn't like he could simply beg off keeping his fingers on the pulse of his business.

Brian showered and dressed as fast as he could manage and found, when he descended the stairs, that Gus had remained glued to the spot Brian had left him. The two of them then gathered up their things, Gus cradling the card he'd made carefully against his chest, and they ventured back out into the world, off to visit Lindsay.

As he drove to the hospital, Brian tried to get Gus to spill what it was Justin had said to him, but Gus only giggled and shook his head, pulling his lips into his mouth in a way that Brian recognized instantly. Letting the secret go for the moment, Brian just smiled, enjoying the amusement his son got from having his secret.

At the hospital, Brian sat Gus in the waiting room chairs while he asked at the nurses station after Doctor Patch. While they waited, Gus just stared down at the card he'd made – opening and closing it over and over again. Brian tried to suppress the persistent worry that was starting to grow larger by the moment. Gus was suddenly very quiet, and very serious. Brian tried to convince himself the kid was just tired, that he wasn't feeling like everyone in his life was abandoning him, one person at a time.

He waited anxiously for the Doctor, feeling unsure of what to expect from Lindsay, post-surgery. What he did know was there was a tiny bubble of excitement, struggling to rise up from within. The thought that possibly, within the next few days, Lindsay might feel something, that her legs might be returned to her, was overwhelming. He hoped for that, not only for Lindsay but for Gus and selfishly, for himself. He knew she would be okay no matter the outcome; she was strong and would find a way to live her life fully even if she never walked again. Brian though…he wasn't sure what affect that particular outcome might have on him. Would he be expected to take her in, to care for her? It's not that he wouldn't do it, or that he didn't _want_ to do it, but it was a lot to think about. Again, selfishly, he couldn't help but map out in his mind how Lindsay's condition, wheelchair versus no wheelchair, would impact his life and his freedom. The weight of the responsibility he was assuming he'd be asked to take on was heavy indeed.

When Doctor Patch finally came out to talk, Brian was suitably worked up, having waited nearly 30 minutes. His imagination had run wild and it was all he could do to not shake the doctor senseless as he prattled on about the surgery itself. Brian didn't really care about that, he just wanted to know the outcome which, unfortunately, was the one thing that no one could speak of – at least not yet.

Brian didn't understand everything the doctor told him, but he understood enough to know that Lindsay had a long road ahead of her. Her L5 had been partially separated, but according to the doctor it wasn't a complete injury – meaning the spinal cord had not been severed - and so there was hope for recovery. He was quick to assure Brian that because it was the L5, the bottommost vertebrae that rests at the base of the spine, there was a high possibility for Lindsay to recover some mobility, and a slightly lower possibility that she would recover all mobility. Doctor Patch refused to give figures or percentages or provide any measure of probability of successful recovery, which annoyed Brian greatly. But – he held on to the hope that she very well could walk again, as if she'd never been injured. The doctor reminded Brian that the fact that she had felt some tingling in her hips prior to the surgery was also a good indicator that she may yet regain use of her legs. Doctor Patch was careful to express cautiousness in his optimism, but Brian didn't need that kind of handling – he was not an optimist at heart and so any good news that he received would be taken with at least one grain of salt.

The last thing the doctor told him was that as of that morning, Lindsay had not yet regained any feeling in her legs. But - the doctor was adamant it was not a reason to lose hope. It was still very early, and they should know within the next week or so, if the surgery had repaired any of the nerve damage. It would be much longer before they'd know if she would recover any use of her legs. That, he told Brian, would depend on Lindsay's motivation to walk again, and how hard she was willing to work. Doctor Patch strongly suggested Brian encourage Lindsay to continue to be hopeful all through her recovery. He also told Brian he was convinced a positive outlook could have beneficial effects on the patient. Brian tried not to roll his eyes, but he agreed to do his best to keep Lindsay's mood positive and her outlook hopeful.

Doctor Patch then recommended Lindsay begin her physical therapy and rehabilitation with the specialists at Toronto General, and after a few weeks she would be strong enough to safely travel back to Pittsburgh where she could be set up with a more permanent physical therapist at a residential rehabilitation center.

Brian listened to all of this with a growing apprehension. It was a rare thing, for him to have to be the adult, the responsible party. But he was. Truly, now he was. Justin was gone and it was only him. He had to take care of Gus, and now he had to take care of Lindsay. He fought the urge to bolt – to seek comfort and escape in sex, fucking as many nameless men as he could find. That wouldn't make what he was now dealing with go away, and he was a fucking 33-year-old man who owned a successful business. If he couldn't manage to keep his shit together now then there really was no hope for him. Swallowing his flight response, Brian thanked the doctor and with Gus in tow, headed to see the mother of his son, and his best friend – other than Mikey of course.

* * *

Brian could hear her from the hallway as they approached her room. He looked down at Gus, walking beside him with his uninjured hand in Brian's, his other hand gripped the card he'd made.

Brian could only hope she wasn't too upset because at this point there was no way he could deter Gus from getting to his mom and delivering his special card. Bracing himself for what could be a potentially upsetting scene, he and Gus came upon her room and crossed over the threshold. Brian exhaled with some relief.

She was obviously upset, but it appeared they'd missed the worst of it. Her eyes were red and she held a crumpled tissue in her hand but there were no more tears, at least at the moment. She raised her head to look at them as they entered and Brian watched her face break out into a brilliant smile that quickly contorted into tears.

Brian felt Gus begin to pull away from him, but he held on to his hand, holding him back.

"Mommy?" his voice was scared, and Brian cursed inwardly.

"It's alright Sonny-boy, she's just happy to see us," Brian leaned down and scooped Gus up in his arms, "right Lindsay?"

Apparently she was of a sound enough mind to agree, because she grinned wide again before nodding and pulling new tissues from the box that rested on her stomach and wiping her eyes. Brian watched her, plainly seeing her struggle to regain her composure. He wanted to laugh because he knew as soon as she saw the card that Gus had made for her she'd be in tears once more.

Brian approached the bed, taking in Lindsay's still form. She was still lying back, though her upper body was slightly angled. There were no signs, other than a heart-rate and pulse-ox monitor, that she had even been in surgery a first time, let alone a second time.

"Remember, no climbing or laying on mommy," Brian said softly, setting Gus down on the edge of the bed, his tiny legs hanging over the edge.

He nodded at Brian before turning to flash his brilliant smile at Lindsay.

"I made this for you," he said proudly, thrusting the card out at her while kicking his legs in the air.

"Oh," Lindsay's eyes widened as she gingerly fingered the card, holding it as if were made of spun glass and would break if held too tight.

"It's beautiful," she added. Brian could see pools welling up in her eyes and smiled, shaking his head. He wanted to tease her, to provide his own brand of "Brian Kinney distraction", but it was too sweet. He didn't want to spoil the moment for either mother or son.

When she opened the card though, Brian saw her strength fade a bit, flicker. Her eyes welled over and tears silently fell as her dark brown eyes absorbed the scene Gus had drawn.

Looking to Gus, Brian observed his son watching Lindsay closely; expectantly.

"It's mama," he said finally, crawling up on the bed and laying down beside Lindsay. Brian felt a moment of terror, his son moving so fast he didn't have time to stop him. He breathed a sigh of relief when Gus didn't attempt to crawl on top of his mother, instead curling up against her shoulder.

"She's an angel now, right mommy?" Gus 's hair, brown and wild like Brian's, was a stark contrast to the soft, muted hues of blond that framed Lindsay's head. They both turned to look at each other and Lindsay smiled.

"Yeah buddy, she is," her eyes met Brian's for a brief moment before going back to the card.

"This is the best medicine I could possibly have," she said after several long minutes.

"My two favorite men," she turned her head to smother Gus with messy kisses, and Brian tried to ignore the pained expression on her face. No doubt she was sore as hell, not just physically - having endured two surgeries - but emotionally too. She had barely had time to deal with Melanie's death. Brian could only assume that all those emotions were beginning to catch up with her.

"Stop it!" Gus exclaimed, laughing. Brian couldn't help but smile too – his son's protestation not quite fierce enough to be believed.

"Where's Justin?" Lindsay asked then, her eyes on Brian, the smile on her face slowly fading.

"He's gone back to New York," Brian tried to act ambivalent, but was pretty sure Lindsay could see through it.

"Why?"

"Because I told him too," Brian shrugged as Lindsay sighed.

"Brian-," she started but something in Brian's expression must have given her pause because she stopped herself, shaking her head. "I wish you wouldn't do that to him."

"I'm not doing anything to him. He needs to live his life. I'm letting him."

"Speaking from a place I hope you never find yourself – his life is you. Everything else is just…," Lindsay's eyes shifted from Brian to Gus and back again, "just bull s-h-i-t."

"Mommy, you spelled shit," Gus smirked and both Lindsay and Brian burst with laughter.

"Smart kid," Brian grinned.

His heart was heavy, though, Lindsay's words rolling around in his head. He was still convinced he'd done the right thing, sending Justin back to live out his dream, or fantasy, or whatever it turned out to be. But what if he wasn't right?

"I love you, Gus," Lindsay said then, "and I love this card. I will keep it forever."

Gus looked at Brian then, his face beaming with joy. Brian pushed thoughts of Justin and New York out of his head, focusing on his kid instead. Offering a wink Brian reached out to ruffle Gus's already wild hair, earning another giggle for it.

Ten minutes later Gus was seated in the chairs under the windows, working on the coloring book that Brian had left in the room as a distraction. He had moved a chair up next to Lindsay's bedside and they were talking in hushed tones. Brian kept casting furtive glances towards Gus, hoping they really couldn't be overheard by his small ears.

"It hit me today," she said, her red were eyes swollen and still leaking tears. "She's really, truly gone. I just," she stopped then, her eyes searching Brian's for…he didn't know what. Comfort? Assurance?

"I can't really believe it," she finally finished.

"I didn't want to leave Pittsburgh, you know," she smiled sadly at Brian, and his stomach churned unpleasantly.

"I knew it was important to Mel, and a part of me thought it might be the best thing for us," she paused to wipe her eyes. "That it might be best for the kids."

Brian bit back the anger that was stirring within him. If he'd known Lindsay had been having doubts he wouldn't have been so quick to succumb to her entreaties that he let them leave. He wondered, fleetingly, how hard he would have had to push back in order for the munchers to have remained. Of course, that wasn't the Kinney way. He never wanted to be the reason anyone held back from doing what they wanted to do…but if it had meant keeping Gus close to him would he have made an exception?

"I didn't know that," he said quietly, and Lindsay must have heard something in his tone because her eyes widened slightly and she smiled apologetically.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I had made up my mind before we ever talked to you and Michael. When you said you wanted Gus to stay a part of me was glad. I didn't want to leave everyone. I didn't want to leave you. I didn't want to take Gus from you."

Brian nodded, cocking his eyebrow and posing the question silently, _then why?_

"Mel convinced me, after you guys left," she shook her head. "That's all I can offer. And it hurts to think that if I'd just held my ground, gone with my gut instinct, this accident might not have happened. Mel would be here with us, I wouldn't be in this damn bed unsure if I'm ever going to walk again. Gus wouldn't be," her voice caught and she paused, breathing deeply. "Gus wouldn't be hurt."

"No regrets," Brian murmured, biting back a smile as Lindsay rolled her eyes.

"Fuck you," she breathed, but Brian thought he saw a tiny smile playing on her lips.

"It's just all so fucked up," she sighed, "and it's kind of my fault."

"Fuck that. No," Brian reached a hand out to stroke her hair, "this is not your fault. It was an accident, Lindsay. Pure and simple and no one's fault."

"Everything was coming together for us. We found a great house, I found the perfect job at a gallery downtown, Mel was just about to start the process of getting her legal license validated here," she looked away from Brian then, her eyes flitting to Gus. Brian followed her stare and they both watched him, his tongue poking out of his mouth as he focused on what he was doing.

"Gus and JR," Lindsay stared up at the ceiling. "Fuck. JR will never know her mother."

"She'll have you, though," Brian countered. He was not the typical go-to guy for comfort and affirmations, but this was Lindsay, and this was more than just hurt feelings or petty arguments. She'd lost the love of her life and it was understandable that she was struggling. Hell, if Brian lost Justin…fuck, he would be worthless. Just the thought, the idea, of a world without Sunshine in it was enough to put a vice grip of pain on Brian's heart.

No, Lindsay had every right to feel lost and hurt and alone. And Brian had to do whatever he could to help. No matter how uncomfortable or unprepared for the task he felt.

"Will she have me though?" Lindsay asked, her brow furrowed in concern. "Are you sure about that?"

Brian shrugged and nodded, "Yeah, why not?"

"Michael?"

Brian sighed. He had to believe that after the ridiculous fight over JR that had occurred only months earlier, that the two of them could manage to come to an agreement; could manage to work together for the best interest of JR.

"Don't even worry about it," Brian shrugged off the concern, hopeful that Lindsay would buy into his nonchalant attitude. "You should put this energy into healing."

"Will you talk to him?" she asked, undeterred.

"Yes, I'll talk to him," he replied, lifting her hand to his lips and placing a soft kiss on the smooth skin.

She laughed then, squeezing his hand. They looked at each other for a few seconds before Lindsay's smile slowly started to fade. Brian could sense there was more she wanted from him, and he immediately grew slightly nervous.

"Can you do something else for me," she pulled his hand to her chest, trapping it with her other hand. "Can you call my parents?"

Brian couldn't help but express shock at the request. As far as Brian knew, Lindsay hadn't talked to her parents, or her sister, since just before JR was born. They hadn't exactly parted on the best of terms.

"I know," she closed her eyes and sighed. "But they don't know what happened and…shit…I feel responsible to at least notify them."

With a barking laugh Brian shook his head. "Sure," he could only imagine the way the conversation would go and he wasn't sure which elder Peterson he'd rather talk too, Lindsay's bitch mother or her spineless father.

"I love you, Peter," she said softly then, pulling Brian's hand to her mouth and returning the affectionate gesture he had bestowed upon her moments before.

"You too, Wendy," Brian smiled.

* * *

Brian hadn't known what to expect when he called The Peterson's later that night. He had expected some push-back as he knew neither of Lindsay's parents had ever liked him very much. Though there had been that moment in the summer of 1992 when he and Mr. Peterson had bonded briefly over soccer in the Summer Olympics. Brian had played all through high school as well as on the club team at the University. It was just for fun, soccer wasn't a big scholarship sport which was unfortunate because Brian truly believed he had been good enough he could have earned a scholarship.

When the USA soccer team failed to make the finals, losing to Italy in the first round of play, Brian had thrown his support to the home team, Spain. When Lindsay invited him over to her house to watch the Gold medal match he and her dad, who had also apparently played some high school and college soccer, had spent the entire game talking strategy and lamenting the status of soccer in the US. When Spain won the Gold Medal match, Brian and Mr. Peterson had shared a moment of joy. It was the first time in Brian's life that any adult male had shown any kind of interest in the one sport he played, and played well. And it hadn't even been him playing. It had also been the one and only time Brian had felt any kind of kinship with either of Lindsay's parents, and now a part of him hoped it was Mr. Peterson who answered.

As luck would have it, it was Mr. Peterson who answered the phone. Brian started off by assuaging his fears that Lindsay or Gus were seriously hurt (Lindsay didn't want them to know about the spinal cord injury just yet) before he told him of the accident, and Melanie's death.

To his credit, Ron Peterson was receptive and cordial to Brian, though he thought he sensed an undercurrent of animosity which only grew when Brian passed along the rest of Lindsay's message. She didn't want them to come to Toronto. She would see them when she was back in Pennsylvania in a few months time.

Brian could tell her dad wanted to argue, but he held back. Thankful he wouldn't have to play the asshole, Brian promised to relay to her the message that they would like to talk to her, and he hung up the phone as quickly as he could.

* * *

The diner felt familiar, it was a place not unlike the Liberty Diner. The vinyl covered benches the same shade of green; the cheap Formica table tops the same shade of red; the servers the same breed of flamboyant queer. Brian felt immediately comfortable and safe within its bright blue walls which featured old Toronto tourism posters, all of them faded and yellowed from the passage of time.

The place was called Rosie's, apparently named for the grandmother of the owner , who was the first gay man to successfully navigate, and survive, the shark infested waters of restaurant ownership. It was difficult to open, maintain, and succeed in the business regardless of sexual orientation – but add being gay into the mix and it really was a Cinderella story. The original owner, Rosie's grandson, was long since gone from the world, but the name of the diner remained as ownership of the diner passed to the next gay man willing to take on the challenge; it was a form of celebration, a way that those who followed could honor the man who had blazed the trail. There had been four owners of Rosie's diner through the years, and though the furniture might leave much to be desired there was nowhere else that could beat the welcoming warmth that greeted Brian when he first stepped inside; not even the Liberty Diner felt as cozy. The place was obviously a safe haven, a communal gathering spot for the gay community of Toronto.

Lindsay and Melanie had discovered the greasy spoon their second night in Toronto, taking it upon themselves to seek out as many places as they could that would remind them of home and help make the transition easier. Thus, when Brian asked Lindsay for any suggestions of places to take Gus that weren't the ridiculously terrible pizza place with the plastic, singing animals, she'd laughed then told him of Rosie's.

It didn't hurt that Gus loved going, and so Brian started taking them there every evening. After working through the morning while the nanny he'd hired kept Gus occupied, he and Gus would have a small lunch at the house then go to the hospital to visit Lindsay before her afternoon physical therapy session. Leaving the hospital, Brian would then take Gus to the park where he'd watch him play, sometimes with other children and sometimes alone. Hell, sometimes Brian would bring along a soccer ball and the two of them would kick it between them. Those were his favorite afternoons.

Finally, after expending enough energy to compensate for the extraordinarily high-caloric food that was always served in diners, he and Gus would head to Rosie's. Some nights they would bring a piece of the infamous Rosie's Chocolate Cake back to the hospital for Lindsay and share it between them; she was addicted to it, or so she told Brian.

On the fifth night of this new schedule Brian took Gus out to the diner once again. Brian and Gus were quickly becoming known to the staff of the diner. The pink-haired twink that had served them their first night there led them to a booth before leaving them with a wink. The twink was just a kid, probably not even 18 yet, and definitely not Brian's type, but he always appreciated the flirtatious efforts; or at least, he appreciated it most of the time.

Gus, who always ordered the chicken fingers from the kid's menu, immediately began coloring on the back of the paper placemat he was given. Brian, perusing the menu and deciding to give the seafood platter a try, set aside his menu just as he noticed a man intently staring at him.

Brian, who wasn't above picking up a trick when out to dinner, was certainly not in the mood to do so when his young son was with him. Sending a patented 'I'm not interested' headshake accompanied by an icy stare, Brian was surprise to see the man just smile. He was even more surprised when the man stood and approached their table. Gus, involved in the puzzle game on the back of his placemat, paid no attention as the man approached. Brian however, stared at him with a look he knew conveyed nothing that could be considered in the least bit friendly.

"What?" He asked, obviously agitated and trying to be as unfriendly as possible without scaring Gus or outright cursing at the stranger.

"I was hoping I'd see you again," he said, still smiling, though there was something in his smile that gave Brian pause and reason to doubt the actual validity of that sentiment.

At the sound of the new voice Gus glanced up. He examined the man with a curious look while Brian just narrowed his eyes with irritation.

"Cute kid," he said, smiling at Gus. Brian glanced at his son and silently agreed but didn't bother to answer out loud.

"Do I know you?" Brian finally asked as he returned his gaze to the man who was now looking back down at Brian.

"We met about two weeks ago," he paused, glancing quickly at Gus before continuing, "at Vertigo."

Brian remained silent but was somewhat strangely relieved to have at least one face to put to the likely several guys he'd fucked that night; as sore as his dick had been the following day he knew he had to have done several guys. The thought brought him a moment of shame before he shrugged it off. What was done was done. Instead of lamenting his irresponsible and stupid behavior he shifted his eyes and examined the man who stood before him, not bothering to hide the fact that he was essentially checking him out. He was fairly tall and older, in his mid-40s maybe. He was thin, with lean legs, a narrow torso, and he had a nice face with a head of thick, dark brown hair - so dark it appeared nearly black. _Not bad, _Brian thought. Though he was older than what Brian usually went for, he could see why he'd gone after this guy – especially in the dark, flashy-lighting of a dance club. Everyone looked younger and more attractive in that environment.

While Brian conducted his once over the smile slowly slipped from the stranger's face.

"Sam Fairfield," he held out his hand and for a moment Brian just stared at it before ever so slowly he reached out to shake it. H didn't offer his own name.

"What did you give me that night?" Brian asked instead, his tone accusatory.

Sam just shook his head, "You were already flying high when I approached you."

Brian just nodded, intrigued. So? This guy had approached him. That wasn't unusual but the mood he'd been in that night had been predatory so he was a little surprised he had allowed himself to get picked up.

Brian moved his eyes to his son, watching as he used a bright orange crayon to trace his way through the simple maze that was the centerpiece of the placemat the pink-haired server had set before him.

"Look, I have to tell you something," Sam started. His expression had lost any pretense of casual pleasantries and his tone was suddenly, unnervingly serious. Brian felt a tiny wave of uneasiness swirl in his gut.

"Now?" Brian questioned, trying to sound unconcerned but not sure he'd pulled it off convincingly. Of course this man was a stranger and he didn't know Brian from Tom, Dick, or Harry so maybe he did sound convincing…

"It's important. I've been looking for you since that night but you haven't been back to the club," the guy, Sam, said. He shuffled on his feet and the tug of nervous anxiety grew stronger in Brian's belly.

Brian looked at Gus then. He seemed to be paying no attention to the two men, now engrossed in a connect-the-dots drawing game.

"Priorities," Brian replied vaguely as he looked back up at the other man.

Sam nodded in apparent understanding.

"The day after we…you know," he paused and motioned between them with his hand, "my ex informed me that he had been with someone else."

"So?" Brian cocked his eyebrow and waited expectantly for the part that had anything to do with him. He really didn't see how what the ex of this one-time trick did had anything to do with him.

"So this someone was positive," Sam's eyes shifted from Brian to Gus and back again. He half-shrugged as if to apologize.

Brian maintained his expression, still not quite seeing what this had to do with him.

"They were together au naturale," Sam continued, "and then he and I had a…well, we were together in what I can only call a colossal mistake of epic proportions. But both of these times were before you and I…"

His voice trailed off and Brian closed his eyes, clearly seeing now where this was leading.

"Your friend?" Brian opened his eyes and asked softly.

"Tested and waiting for results," Sam sighed.

"You?" Brian asked.

"Same," Sam shrugged.

Brian grinned then. This was most unexpected and he knew if he didn't laugh, he might go into a fit of rage instead - ironically. The last thing he needed was to create a scene, and certainly not in front of Gus.

"Look, I know this is a shitty thing to tell someone, especially here," both men looked to Gus, "and even though the chances are very slim since I always use a condom and always require my partner to do the same, you should still probably get tested. I'm just glad I saw you, and recognized you. Though in fairness, you are quite hard to forget."

Brian barely heard him, instead the movie in his mind replaying over and over the last night he'd spent with Justin.

_Fuck. Justin._

"Right," Brian said absently, not in the mood to hear how he was God's gift to gay men, and the best lay this guy had had, blah, blah, blah, the song remains the same.

"I'm sorry," Sam said, "and if circumstances were different I'd ask to see you again...-,"

"Sorry's bullshit and I don't do repeat appearances. Even if it were different circumstances," Brian interrupted, practically spitting the words, his mood sour. He wanted nothing more than for the guy to leave them the hell alone. He diverted his attention back to the local paper that was spread open before him. What felt like several minutes but what was probably only 30 seconds passed before Brian heard Sam walk away.

"Daddy, my arm itches again," Gus said then, raising his head to look at Brian, his brow drawn in concern. Brian suppressed a grin as he picked up the large soup spoon from beside him.

"Hold out your arm," Brian reached out and grasped the tiny fingers that were protruding from the bright blue cast, "where?"

Gus pointed to the top of his forearm, right in the middle of the cast.

"Okay, ready?" Brian forced a grin as he cocked an eyebrow. Gus grinned back in response, nodding.

With a wink, Brian gently tapped the round underside of the spoon against the cast, the tapping noise attracting a few looks from the other customers around them. Brian ignored their curious stares as he watched Gus open his mouth wide and giggle.

"Me now," Gus held out his uninjured arm and Brian passed him the spoon.

"Remember, not too hard," he said, bemused as he watched his son nod before lightly tapping the spoon against the cast.

With a sigh, Brian casually turned his head to look at the people around him. Most of them had turned their attention back to their meals or their conversations; most of them except a man in a booth seated across the room; Sam. His eyes remained trained on Brian, and with another heavy sigh it all came crashing back.

Gus, done tapping the spoon had resumed his coloring and so Brian turned his attention to the newspaper he had brought with him as he spread out before him.

To anyone who might be looking, it would seem he was engrossed in learning about all the current events within the greater Toronto area, and though his eyes were trained on the paper in apparent concentration his mind was really elsewhere, thinking about the phone call he had to make, and the appointment he had to schedule.

* * *

Brian considered his options for a few days.

In between work, visits to Lindsay, and taking Gus to the park, and then to the library when a heavy spring snow made going to the park impossible, he let what Sam had told him bounce around in his head. Truth be told, he was feeling a little disgusted with himself. He had fucked hundreds of guys, of that there was no doubt, and a part of him was a bit frightened to consider what the actual number might be… But the one thing he prided himself on was that he was always safe, and because he knew accidents happened and condoms weren't 100% effective against certain STDs, he was always regular in getting tested for everything, including HIV. He knew things would be a lot less complicated if he just stopped fucking around – but he didn't want too.

Brian never did anything he didn't want to do; not even when his health was on the line.

He wasn't due for his next HIV test for a few more months and if not for the real fear of potentially hurting Justin with his stupidity, he would seriously consider just blowing off the warning and waiting anyway. But that would be the stupidest thing he could possibly do, especially after Melanie's death and with Lindsay bed-ridden for likely months herself. He had to be there for Gus, and wholly there for Gus – no distractions.

Plus…Justin.

So Brian called the hospital and scheduled a blood test to coincide with his visits to see Lindsay. He could leave Gus with her long enough to get his blood drawn. Surprisingly, they were able to get Brian in the following day.

That morning, as he sat eating breakfast with Gus, his phone chirped to remind him of an appointment. He couldn't recall that he had anything scheduled for the day; his calendar for Kinnetik was uncharacteristically empty for the next few days. Thus, when he looked at the phone he felt startled at what the reminder was telling him.

"Justin's birthday," Brian whispered; how could he forget? Precious few dates were etched into Brian's memory; Gus's birthday, his birthday (though for reasons other than celebratory), and Justin's birthday were just a few that were stuck in his head, permanently marking the passage of time each year when they rolled around.

"It's Justin's birthday?" Brian saw Gus turn to him, his eyes wide. "Can I call him and tell him happy birthday? Can I?"

Brian couldn't resist smiling as he nodded at his son, "Later."

Gus grinned and bounced in his seat, "I'm gonna make him a card, too. Will you help me, daddy?"

"Yeah, sure thing Sonny-boy," Brian answered, distractedly. What a day. Justin's birthday…and Brian's HIV test.

"Daddy?"

"Hmmm," Brian watched Gus seem to contemplate asking what looked to be a very serious question.

"Is Justin as old as you now?"

Brian barked laughter, feeling some of the tension of the last few days ease up just slightly with the release.

"Not quite," he replied.

"Oh," Gus nodded, stabbing his fork into the half-eaten waffle on his plate.

"Is he gonna have a birthday party?" he asked then, his expression seeming to betray some serious concern.

"I doubt it," Brian shrugged, suddenly not sure he wanted to know what Justin might be doing to celebrate. He was 22 years old now. Damn. Brian couldn't help but grin. That little blonde twink was growing up – becoming a man.

"I wish he was still here," Gus said sadly. Brian bit his lips, suddenly losing his appetite. He stood then, taking his plate to the sink and dumping his half-eaten breakfast down the drain. He could hear Gus singing _Happy Birthday_ under his breath and he couldn't help but smile. There was no joy in it, though because as much as Gus missed Justin, Brian missed him that much more.

* * *

At the hospital, Lindsay had given him a curious look when he'd excused himself for his appointment at the lab. He didn't expound on why he needed to step out for a moment, and she didn't ask.

He knew it would be a quick and relatively painless procedure. A simple blood draw, and a few days to wait for results. Brian was certain everything would be fine. Offering his most reassuring smile to the mother of his son, he ducked from the room.

The nurse who drew his blood was friendly, but efficient, and didn't waste any time with idle chit-chat. Thus, Brian was in and out of the lab in less than ten minutes. He was told to expect results within five business days and reminded that he would need at least three more follow-up tests, in one month, three months and six months. Brian acknowledged the advice and bit back the snarky retort.

He was all too aware of what he needed to do.

* * *

"Hello?" Justin's voice sounded tentative, cautious.

"Hey," Brian grunted.

"Hey," Justin sounded uncertain, "is everything okay?"

"Yeah," Brian blurted out a little too quickly. He heard Justin sigh with resignation; he could tell everything was not okay. Hell, the simple act of Brian calling him probably told him that things were not okay…

"Did you get Gus's message?" Brian asked, prolonging the moment of truth a bit longer.

There was a soft laugh from the other end of the line and Brian felt a smile play at his lips.

"Yeah, tell him thank you," Justin's voice had resumed its easy nature, "I loved it. He really is the best kid, Brian."

"I know," Brian murmured, "I'm fucking lucky."

He could only hope his luck would hold out in this regard as well, as he braced himself to tell Justin the one thing, the very one thing he never wanted to have to tell him – or anyone.

"You need to get tested," he blurted, biting at his cheek as the copper taste of blood filled his mouth.

There was nothing but silence on the other end of the line.

"I need…what?" Justin finally replied. He sounded confused, like he had misunderstood the punchline of a joke. If only it was a joke. Brian could imagine his expression, his eyebrows raised and a sort of half smile, half frown on his face. Fuck.

"You heard what I said," Brian closed his eyes and rested his forehead in his free hand.

Fuck, this was even more degrading than the syphilis 'incident'…

"I heard but I don't...," he sighed, then, and Brian heard the disappointment in it.

"Okay. Tested. For what, exactly?" Justin spoke slowly and Brian could hear the hard edge creeping into his voice now, along with a panic brimming just beneath the cool, calm he was trying to exude.

"HIV."

Brian heard a sharp intake of breath and his gut twisted painfully.

"What the fuck, Brian!" Justin's voice rose in volume and now there was panic; full, terrified, panic. "What the hell did you do?"

_Shit._

"It's probably nothing. A guy contacted me, he was exposed before he and I…," Brian sighed, "and this was right before you and I…," Brian paused again, "I'm sure it's fine. Everyone wore protection, except the guy's ex who started it all."

"This is un-fucking-believable," Justin was pissed, that much was easy to decipher. Brian just closed his eyes and accepted the anger – even through the telephone line he could feel it, radiating at him in waves.

"Will you get tested?" Brian asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

"Yes! God. What the fuck do you think?" Justin was full out yelling now. "Happy fucking birthday to me," he added with a barking laugh.

"Justin, I -," Brian started, but he wasn't given the opportunity to finish.

"Fuck off, Brian," Justin spat and Brian flinched. He had never felt this kind of vile anger from Justin before, and while he knew it was deserved it still hurt; this wasn't the same type of anger he'd gotten after the Cancer (hurt anger), or even after the syphilis (disappointed anger) - this was borderline hatred. Brian understood there was a fine line between love and hate, but he also understood being the subject of someone's hatred. He'd lived his entire life the subject of his parent's hatred and now, feeling that coming from the one person he least wanted to hurt or give reason to hate him…it hurt like a fucking son of a bitch.

"Will you let me know your results?" Brian asked after a long pause, flinching again when Justin laughed humorlessly on the other end of the line.

"Sure, Brian. I'll let you know," he replied flatly, the change in his tone scaring Brian. He no longer sounded angry. He no longer sounded hurt. He sounded like a complete stranger, his voice unrecognizable. Brian would rather hear vile hatred lacing every word coming from Justin's mouth than this disconnected, unemotional, detached voice.

Brian opened his mouth to offer what he knew would be a pathetic apology when he noticed the silence coming through the phone line was different, heavier.

"Hello?" Brian asked but he got no response. Justin was gone.

_Shit, fuck, and goddamn I'm a big fucking asshole_, Brian thought as he tossed his cell onto the tabletop, watching it skid across the grainy, wood surface. He sat in the quiet, dark kitchen for nearly a half hour, wondering how the hell things had turned so bad, so damn fast.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading, and thanks for commenting! I love getting reviews and hearing what you think! I can't promise you'll always like what you read but knowing the story elicits an emotional response is always inspiring to hear. And anyway, isn't the journey the most interesting part, and what we all find inspiration and motivation from anyway? :)**


	9. Balance

Brian didn't believe in the metaphysical or the supernatural. He thought psychics were a load of crap and while he found himself amused, on occasion, with Mysterious Marilyn's exploitation of the weaker minds on Liberty Avenue, he never took any stock in what she had to say – not even after her warnings back when Brian, Michael, Emmett and Ted all road-tripped to New York City to get Justin, all those years ago.

In that same vein, he also refused to believe that dreams were a way to see into the subconscious. He didn't like the idea that his dreams might be even remotely telling of his weaknesses, or what he considered his weaknesses; the part of him that he kept behind the walls; the part of him that felt every slight, every insult, every judgment against him; the part of him that no one thought existed because he refused to let it show. He didn't want to know that his dreams were playing on those things and that was probably why he rarely remembered his dreams – another defense mechanism.

Lately, though, he had been remembering his dreams and he didn't particularly like the images they conjured. He didn't like to think that his subconscious was as fucked up as his dreams would seem to indicate.

When he woke up the morning after his painful conversation with Justin, there was one image seared into his brain – an image that had taken him years to stop seeing every time he closed his eyes; years to stop dreaming about. Yet that image was reasserting itself, haunting Brian's dreams once again. He didn't want to explore the reasons why suddenly he was dreaming of that night all those years ago. That night when he had held Justin's bleeding and broken body to him, painfully aware of the excruciating passage of time, waiting for the EMTs and Police to arrive on the scene while willing the kid to hang on, to keep breathing; to keep living.

In his dreams time stretched on, far longer than it had in reality. In his dreams blood from the wound on Justin's head coated Brian's hands as he tried to stem the flow, as he cradled the limp, unresponsive body and willed it to remain breathing. In his dreams the only sounds were his ragged breaths and choked cries as he yelled over and over for help. In his dreams Chris Hobbs stood over him sneering and laughing, holding the wood bat he'd used to assault Justin. In his dreams it gleamed bright red and dripped Justin's blood.

His dreams were better off forgotten. But they weren't to be forgotten – not this time. So Brian tried to shake the mood of the dream, wishing he could lock the residual feelings he had about that night back up in his head and forget about them forever. Wishing he could bleach the images from his memory, make them disappear forever. He didn't need to ever see them again.

The clock next to him flashed its digital display, 05:34 AM.

Knowing that he would not be able to return to sleep, Brian turned off his alarm and crawled out of bed. Donning his sweats he ventured down to the kitchen and started the coffee.

Still – he couldn't shake the image of Justin lifeless and covered in slick, red blood. He couldn't shake the waves of nausea that were washing over him, the memory of the fear he'd felt night – still palpable even four years later – threatening to level him with its potency.

The dreams hadn't had such an effect on him for years, not since the weeks immediately following the bashing when he'd been unable to sleep at night because of them. And really they weren't just dreams, they were nightmares.

It hadn't been so brutally graphic, the real event, at least as far as Brian could recall. That is, when he allowed himself to remember that night; or the days…weeks…months after. There had been blood, of course, but it hadn't flowed from Justin's broken head as if a faucet had been turned on. And Chris Hobbs…Brian felt rage within him when he thought of that bastard. When he allowed himself to think about it, he found himself wishing he'd hit him somewhere other than his groin that night; he wished he'd bashed his head in instead…

Brian didn't assume responsibility for much but what had happened to Justin after the prom, and what was happening now with this damn HIV crap, both of those things were entirely Brian's fault. He was certain it was the latter than had prompted the recurring nightmare to once again rear its ugly head after nearly two years.

Fucking guilt.

With a heavy sigh, Brian poured a cup of coffee and stared out the window into the cold, spring morning. As the sun rose and its rays began to warm the day, Brian felt the residual anxiety and fear slowly disappear with the cold, morning dew.

Gus wandered downstairs a little over an hour later and per their usual routine, Brian cooked up breakfast – this morning it was scrambled eggs and bacon. Brian wasn't hungry so he just drank coffee and watched his son devour the entire platter of bacon and eggs.

Later – after Ronnie, the middle-aged, slightly overweight woman that Brian had hired to watch Gus in the mornings, showed up – Brian retreated to his makeshift office. It had taken him three attempts with the nanny agency to find someone that could handle him as well as his son. Ronnie reminded him a lot of Debbie, which was probably why Gus took to her almost immediately. The first few days had been trying. Gus had reverted back to his previous behavior, crying hysterically when Brian left his sight, even when he knew he was just in the other room. It seemed Gus didn't want to be left alone with a stranger and Brian couldn't blame him, but he also needed to get his work done. Kinnetik had bared the brunt of Brian's distraction for almost two weeks and for a fledgling company barely out of the nest that was not wise. When Ronnie had come on the scene things had immediately been easier and Brian wondered if the woman would consider relocating to Pittsburgh and continue to watch Gus. He'd have to ask her…

Brian, with a long list of items he needed to take care of and Gus safe with Ronnie, dedicated his morning to accomplishing the things he'd been putting off for too long. Things that he could do that would distract him from thinking too much about everything else he was dealing with; Lindsay and her injury, Gus and his struggles, Justin and the damn HIV test…

The first call he placed was to Jennifer Taylor. He was unnecessarily nervous when dialing, even though he doubted Justin would have shared the potential health crisis with her. Brian knew Jennifer, accepting and understanding of Justin and his sexuality though she was, would not be so kind and understanding when faced with something like HIV. No one would.

It was incredibly unlikely Justin would have said anything - it was far too soon to tell people. Both Brian and Justin had six months before they'd know the verdict. Though there would be some comfort to be had in getting negative tests leading up to that time. Still – Justin wouldn't put that kind of fear into the heart of his mother, at least Brian didn't think he would…

Regardless, Brian wanted to get that particular conversation over with as soon as he could.

At first he was worried she wasn't going to answer; glancing at the clock he saw it was after 8am. She did answer, then, likely just seconds before her phone would have gone to voicemail. Her tone was professional, and while not quite unfriendly, it wasn't quite friendly either.

Brian smiled to himself – he knew Jennifer had been especially heartbroken when he and Justin had called off the wedding. He was pretty sure she blamed him, and that was fine. He was used to that reaction and it was, at least partially, his fault.

"Hello Mother Taylor," Brian crooned, using the nickname that typically elicited a tiny smile from the woman.

"Brian," she responded coolly and Brian was pretty sure she wasn't smiling this time.

"How are things in the Pitts?" Brian asked as sweetly as he could without sounding condescending.

"Same as ever," she replied, her tone slightly less caustic.

"How is Lindsay doing?" Jennifer asked after a pause, her voice soft and laced with concern.

"She's doing okay," Brian replied, "that's actually why I'm calling. I need you to take the house off the market."

The silence on the other end of the phone was deafening. No doubt Jennifer would have made a killing on her commission from the sale of the estate, but Brian didn't really think that was the reason she was hesitating to respond.

"Sure," she finally replied. Her professional tone in place but something else, something bitter, tinged the words just beneath it.

Brian heard it and paused, considering whether he wanted, or if he should, open this particular door with her…but finally he decided he had too.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, knowing that she would understand the meaning behind his question. She would understand that everything really only meant one thing – Justin.

He heard her sigh heavily and his heart sank. She knew something was up, and while he was pretty sure he knew what it was he also knew there was no way he could alleviate her worry.

"I don't know. What happened between you two? Justin called me at six thirty this morning; he sounded so strange but he wouldn't tell me anything. I'm worried. He's been having a hard time adjusting to life in that city and it seems worse since he came back from Toronto. What happened?"

Her tone wasn't quite accusatory, but Brian knew she thought the only reason Justin could be in such a state as she envisioned was because Brian had done something. She was partially right - but obviously he couldn't tell her. He wouldn't tell her and he wouldn't tell anyone. Not unless, or until, there was something to actually tell.

"I'm not sure," he said vaguely.

It was true…in a way. He couldn't be sure what Justin was thinking or feeling. But something else Jennifer had said gave Brian pause and he began to feel slightly ashamed he'd pushed Justin out the door so fast. He had heard the younger man when he'd told Brian he wasn't sure he was made for life in New York, but Brian had figured that was just something he was saying so that Brian wouldn't feel bad that he was staying in Toronto. But hearing Jennifer say the same thing, that Justin had been struggling for awhile, now he wasn't so sure that Justin hadn't been telling him the truth…

"Don't bullshit me," she snapped at him, channeling a little bit of Deb and Brian suppressed a laugh.

"I'm sorry Jennifer, I really don't know," Brian raked his hand through his hair. The lie, small though it was, felt heavy as it fell from his mouth.

"Yeah. Fine," she sounded resigned, but Brian could tell she still didn't believe him.

"Consider the house off the market. Anything else?"

"Yeah. Know any good, reliable contractors?" Brian asked.

Brian spent the next hour on the phone, calling the various contractors Jennifer had recommended, requesting bids for a remodel and to build an addition to the ground level of the house. Brian wanted to put in a small addition for Lindsay - a retreat she could call her own, away from the main house. He instructed the various companies that the specs should include allowances for a wheelchair – just in case.

Lindsay still didn't have any sensation in her lower extremities, and with the passing of each day the chances of her recovering any use of her legs grew slimmer. There was still reason to hope, but Brian preferred to be prepared for what looked to be the more likely outcome, which was Lindsay confined to a wheelchair, the use of her legs gone to her.

Arrangements made for the contractors to send him their bids, he turned his attentions to securing Lindsay a room at the Alleghany General Physical Therapy and Rehabilitation* wing. Brian didn't exactly relish the thought of visiting Lindsay within the same walls that he'd watched Justin from, especially since the bashing and the weeks after it were suddenly fresh in his mind (and his dreams) again – but it was the best facility in all of Western Pennsylvania, and Gus needed to be near his mother.

Finally, Brian turned to Kinnetik business. There was one email in his inbox that had caught his attention and interest and so Brian called the office. With Cynthia and Ted on the phone they discussed the new, potential client that wanted Kinnetik to take over their marketing campaigns.

The Sutton Brewery had been in the business of brewing beer for nearly 50 years. They were one of the top breweries in Canada and while they were well known and respected north of the border, they had yet to make a splash in the US market. They had tried, once, in the 1980s to branch out but that venture had failed dismally. The owner, Grant Sutton III, took the failure as a personal slight, and never attempted to breach the saturated market in the US after that. His son, Brown Sutton, still harbored dreams of inserting himself down south of the border and so when his father died in January of 2005 his first order of business, after assuming the reigns of the company, was to begin exploring the possibilities of expanding into the United States. Part of the previous failure, in Brown's eyes, was that his father hadn't targeted the right cities for initial expansion. Instead, the agency they'd been working with, a Canada firm that was also well known and respected, had insisted it would be better for the Brewery to try a widespread distribution model instead of starting out small and spreading slowly, using word of mouth as much as advertising to garner interest in the new brew offered both on tap, and bottled.

Brown, long disillusioned with the way the Canadian ad firm had been handling their advertising, had spent the last year and half of his father's life looking into different agencies in the United States to give them a new, fresh perspective. He was a firm believer that it was good to force change when the status quo no longer worked. In his research he came across Vanguard and an article in a trade magazine about the coup that one man, Brian Kinney, had pulled to steal Brown Athletics out from under one of the most powerful ad firms in Chicago. When he called Vanguard to speak to Brian he was disappointed to learn that he no longer worked for the firm. It was some months later that Brown read another article in the same trade magazine that boasted of a new ad agency making waves in Pittsburgh, offering stiff competition for the established agencies there as well as Philly, New York, Cleveland, and Baltimore.

That was how Brown Sutton found Kinnetik. As Brian listened to Ted and Cynthia relay the story, he couldn't help but feel a sense of proud accomplishment. He was validated. He had arrived. Kinnetik may be only a year or so old but it was his baby, and it was starting to get noticed internationally.

The Sutton Brewery headquarters were in Toronto, and with Brian there currently it seemed fortuitous that the company was interested in working with Kinnetik. Brian, who also didn't believe in fate or destiny, couldn't help but agree that the coincidence was lucky – even though travel to Toronto would not have been difficult had he not been there already – but he kept that opinion to himself.

Brian instructed Cynthia set up a meeting, and then asked her to send him the portfolio she'd put together on the company.

Later that day there was a messenger knocking on the door of the muncher's house, there to deliver the Sutton Brewery materials to Brian, along with one of his dark blue Armani suits. The delivery had been extremely costly, but cheaper than buying a new suit as the Sutton Brewery Board wanted to meet with Brian first thing the following day, anxious to talk with him right away about "Americanizing" their image.

Brian, after taking Gus to the park and to visit Lindsay, returned to the house for dinner instead of going to Rosie's diner. Gus had been disappointed and had treated Brian to angry silence – until Brian had Gus's favorite pizza delivered. They settled in front of the television to eat, Gus watching Finding Nemo for what felt like the 20th time while Brian looked over the materials in preparation for his meeting in the morning.

Being able to focus intently on the company, examining its current campaigns and ad budget and identity as it had been branded over the last 50 years left him no time to think about anything else – only a fleeting thought that he'd get his results in four more days.

* * *

The Sutton Brewery was located on the fringes of Northern Toronto, near the shores of Lake Ontario. When it was built in the mid-70s it was far from the edge of the city but since then, urban sprawl had led the development nearly to the property line. As such, driving from the muncher's house to the brewery, if never felt to Brian like he'd ever really left the city. He could recognize the suburban feel of the neighborhoods as he made his way north, and there was a definite shift in the look and feel of the urban landscape. It reminded him, unfortunately, of the type of neighborhood he had grown up in, and the type of neighborhood Justin had grown up in, based on the few times he'd actually gone to the Taylor's suburban home.

The property was gated, and as Brian checked in and drove up the long, tree-lined drive he was impressed with the natural setting that surrounding the facility. Glances out the windows of the muncher's second car afforded him views of green lawn checkered with large deciduous and evergreen trees as far as he could see. Brian had never really liked the "country", as he'd tell anyone who would listen, but that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate the beauty that natural settings afforded. Granted, the green lawns were a bit too green and a bit too manicured to be "natural", but it was a much prettier sight than endless concrete parking lots.

Upon arrival at the main building, Brian was directed to the business entrance rather than the public entrance where tours started every hour, on the hour. He was sure he'd be getting a tour of the brewery. Certainly not the slick, touristy tour he'd seen advertised on the billboards that lined the highway through Toronto, but a tour nonetheless.

Upon entering Brian found himself in a very conservatively decorated lobby. It was nice enough to evoke the success of the brand, but muted enough not to be flashy. Brian approved, even if the color scheme (earthy greens and blues) left much to be desired, at least by his estimation. Checking in at the desk, Brian waited, examining the historical photos that lined the walls – photos that showed founder Grant Sutton II and his son Grant III at the old brewery site just after opening, along with photos of various stages of construction of the new (and current) brewery. It wasn't long before a young brunette woman came to fetch him, flashing him a dazzling smile that was, unfortunately for her, wasted on him.

"Mr. Kinney. Welcome. I'm Mr. Sutton's assistant, Darcy Lang," she held out her hand. Brian watched her eyes take him in and he flashed his most brilliant smile in response.

"Nice to meet you," he replied.

"If you'll follow me, they're ready for you," she led him through a maze of hallways lined with electronically locked doors interspersed with more historical photos of employees doing various brewery-related tasks, most of which Brian had no idea about, but they seemed to mimic what he could see through the small windows inlaid in some of the doors.

Darcy Lang stopped finally in front of a door made of heavy oak and ornately carved. With another brilliant smile she pushed it open and motioned him inside. He heard her follow behind him then close the door. Brian smiled warmly and let his eyes travel briefly over the faces of the men and women gathered around the large conference table. It was a larger group than he was used to meeting with, but from what Brian understood when he'd read up on the company, though Brown Sutton was now in charge, the company was structured such that he required approval from the Board to make changes in company policy or function and apparently, changing advertising agencies counted as a change in company policy. Brian was just thankful this wasn't a pitch meeting. He could only imagine how difficult it would be to get twelve people to all agree on a single ad campaign.

The faces of those gathered around the table were all smiling and openly friendly and he took them in one at a time. Most of them were older, gray or silver-haired men, but there were two younger, middle-aged women. As his eyes traveled over the last faces of those gathered, Brian felt his own smile falter ever so slightly because there at the end of the table, staring back at him with an expression that Brian couldn't quite read, was Sam Fairfield.

Brian didn't have time to react though, as Brown Sutton was suddenly there in front of him, grasping his hand and thanking him for meeting with them with such short notice. He went on about his admiration for Brian's handling of Brown Athletics, and also boasted his admiration for the way he had remarketed and rebranded Poolside into Pool Boy Coolers, back when he was with Ryder. In fact, Brown Sutton seemed to know an awful lot about all of Brian's campaign's, which helped ease Brian's jangled nerves. He couldn't help but glance back down at the far end of the table to the man who had been responsible for, or rather the catalyst of, the most recent crisis in Brian's life.

There was no time to dwell on it, though, as Brian was introduced to all the Board members. Sam Fairfield, as it turned out, was not part of the Board but the CFO for Sutton Brewery Inc., and so he would be, along with Brown Sutton and Darcy Lang, working closely with Brian and Kinnetik should the two forces decide to work together.

The meeting was informative and fairly short – really more of a "get to know you" in which Brian did his best to charm the room. The Sutton Brewery stood to make Kinnetik a lot of money, and vice versa, and Brian was eager to make an impression that would leave them with no doubt that they should work with him.

Apparently, it worked. The Board voted unanimously, there on the spot, to severe their working relationship it the Canadian firm and work with Kinnetik.

When the meeting broke up, Brown Sutton invited Brian to take a brief tour of the brewery. He handed Brian the pamphlet that the public received when they came for tours, as well as a copy of the initial promotional materials for the new Pale Ale they were hoping to launch later that summer.

White Water Pale Ale, their new brew, was the first beer they wanted Kinnetik to focus on. They wanted to release it in Canada and the US simultaneously, and in three months time. Brian balked a bit – three months wasn't much lead time to effectively create two campaigns, but he kept his reservations to himself, telling Brown Sutton there would be no problems at all getting something ready for them. He instructed Darcy Lang to correspond with Cynthia and they'd get the appropriate contracts worked out and signed by the following day. Brown was thrilled, and as he led Brian on the tour, chattering away about the history of the brewery and his family, Brian was suddenly very aware of Sam's presence as he followed along behind them.

The tour didn't offer any significant enlightenment beyond what little he already knew about the brewing of beer. In his younger days Brian had taken his fair share of brewery tours – mostly to take advantage of the free samples always offered at the end. What he gained in knowledge from the tour was that everyone who worked for Sutton was so _nice, _and while he could appreciate nice – nice didn't sell beer. If they wanted to be successful in the United States they would have to "sex up" their brand and Brian was more than willing to explore the options.

He kept these thoughts to himself as well, intending to conference with Cynthia and Greg, the head of his art department, to hammer out some places to start. At the end of the mini-tour Brown Sutton bid Brian farewell before retreating back into the big conference room. Darcy, and Sam, walked with Brian to the front office and Darcy bid him good day. When Sam paused though, lingering, Brian noticed Darcy eye them curiously before she disappeared back into the innards of the building.

Brian didn't speak at first, simply offering Sam a sort of smirking smile as he waited to hear what the man could possibly have to say to him.

"When I saw the picture of Brian Kinney on the website for Kinnetik, I thought it might be you," Sam smiled warmly and Brian couldn't help but appreciate the view; whatever else he was, Sam Fairfield was also a very attractive man.

"It's me," Brian smiled back.

"How are you?" Sam's question was obviously loaded and Brian clenched his jaw reflexively.

"Great," he replied, the tension in his shoulders increasing with the implication of the question, and the great unknown he was still waiting to hear back about.

Sam nodded, a tiny smile on his face. Brian stared back at him, unsure of what the other man expected from him. All Brian knew was if he was expecting some kind of heart to heart conversation, he would be sorely disappointed.

"Was there anything else?" Brian asked stiffly. He tried to maintain a professional demeanor but the fact that Sam had broached the topic with him in the lobby of his business had rubbed Brian the wrong way. Additionally, if he wasn't willing to discuss this with his closest friends, he certainly wasn't going to discuss it with perfect stranger.

Sam laughed softly and shook his head.

"Right," Brian offered his most sardonic grin, "then you have a _great_ day."

The remainder of the day Brian spent with Gus, and Lindsay, per usual. He made an extra effort to entertain Gus in the hopes of effectively distracting himself. It worked, again, and it wasn't until he laid down that night to sleep that he finally acknowledged the elephant in the room…

Three more days.

* * *

Nine days post-surgery and Lindsay still had not regained any significant feeling or movement in her legs. However, she had started noticing a tingling sensation in her thighs and knees and according to Doctor Patch that was a very good sign. When Brian and Gus arrived at the hospital she was in a great mood, and Brian got from her a sense of hopefulness that didn't feel like it was based on desperation; it didn't feel forced.

After Gus regaled Lindsay with the latest news and events, or at least the latest news and events as seen in the eyes of four-and-a-half year old, he resumed his usual spot under the windows and opened his coloring book. Brian noticed that he was nearly halfway through the book and so he made a mental note to purchase another one for him.

"Are you alright?" Lindsay, her brow furrowed in obvious concern, asked him after a long silence.

"Yeah, I'm great," Brian replied slowly, in his mind replaying his visits over the last few days to see if he had given away any hints that he wasn't functioning on all cylinders, or that anything was bothering him.

"You miss him, don't you," Lindsay said in response, leveling her eyes at Brian as if daring him to deny it.

He couldn't deny it and she knew it. He did miss Justin, though that wasn't entirely what had him feeling out of sorts. Still, it was a good enough cover and so he shrugged noncommittally.

"There's a simple solution to that, you know," Lindsay smirked and Brian just rolled his eyes.

"Sure," he looked over at Gus before he turned his eyes back to his friend.

"So I've got you set up with a private room at the Alleghany PT Center. Doctor Patch seems to think you'll be ready to travel in a couple weeks. So," Brian paused, "we need to talk about what you want to do with the house here."

Brian watched as Lindsay's face clouded. She hadn't spoken to him about Melanie since she'd admitted to feeling guilty and responsible for the accident. Of course it was ridiculous, but Brian also understood her compulsion to feel that guilt. He was carrying the guilt of many things himself, and hypocritical or not, he knew what had happened to Melanie was in no way Lindsay's fault while he did not believe the same held true for him and the plethora of things he was guilty for, and of.

"I guess we need to sell the house," Lindsay sighed, "I don't want to be here without Mel. Shit. I don't want to be anywhere without Mel. I sure as hell don't want to come back her without her."

Lindsay closed her eyes and Brian sat silently beside her, his eyes moving between her and their son. Gus, still coloring, kept his eyes down but Brian thought he saw something in his young son's expression that wasn't quite right. The niggling worry that kept eating at him, that Gus was not as okay as he seemed, reared its head once more.

"Brian," Lindsay was looking at him now, her big, brown eyes shiny with unshed tears, "call him."

He wanted to call him. But he was ashamed, and until he got his test back and could tell Justin it was negative (God, he hoped it was negative!) he wasn't going to call.

"Take it from someone who knows," Lindsay continued, oblivious to Brian's silence, "you don't want to waste any time. Anything could happen."

Brian wanted to laugh at that; how right she was.

"I'll call him," he said finally, if only to calm her down. "But first let's get your house sold, okay?"

He stroked her hair as his voice softened. He wondered if any of his friends would recognize him…the Brian Kinney he'd been before the fateful phone call that had brought him here was slowly fading from view – transforming into a new variation…and Brian wasn't as scared of that prospect as he thought he might be. In fact, he kind of liked it.

Lindsay gave Brian the name of the Realtor who had sold them the house, and Brian planned to call the office the following day so they could relist the house. He also assured Lindsay that they could pack up the house and move everything to a storage facility in Pittsburgh until she knew what her permanent living situation would be.

Arriving back at the house after another dinner with Gus at Rosie's, Brian checked his email to find electronic copies of signed contracts with The Sutton Brewery. Everything was in place. Brian shot off a quick email to Cynthia asking her to set up a conference call with the art department for the morning; he told her they needed to back burner everything else for tomorrow and focus on this new account.

Perusing the other emails that littered his inbox, most of them spam, Brian felt the sudden urge to reach out to Justin and he silently cursed Lindsay for putting the idea into his head. The two men had never exchanged an email in all the years they'd known each other and Brian had to think for a moment before he could even remember if Justin still used his email account.

Brian sat in front of his computer for nearly ten minutes, his fingers resting on the keys but unable to type. He had so much he wanted to say, so much he felt like he needed to say, so much that Justin deserved to hear…but he couldn't do it.

Closing the lid of his laptop, Brian retreated to his bedroom where he checked his phone, finding a new voicemail from Sam Fairfield. He wanted to meet with Brian the following day to discuss the campaign, "and other things".

Brian had a feeling he knew what those "other things" were, and when he called Sam back and got his voicemail, he affirmed their meeting time and place.

Laying down that night, sleep didn't come as quickly as it had the last several nights. Instead, Brian found himself thinking about too many things, but mostly about one thing.

He had to wait two more days.

* * *

The conference call with Cynthia and Greg went well, and the art department was given a deadline of 5pm to send Brian images of their mock-ups. Brian, threatening his entire office with unemployment should the deadline not be met, hung up feeling invigorated, and a little horny. His work, when he was in it and creating, had that affect on him.

It was a little early for lunch, but after asking Ronnie to stay with for a few extra hours in the afternoon, and promising Gus that he could have a milkshake that night at dinner, Brian left the house to meet Sam downtown at a swanky sushi restaurant.

Sam was already seated and sipping a bottle of Classic Sutton Stout, the first beer brewed and sold by the Grant Sutton II and the Sutton Brewery. Brian raised an eyebrow questioningly as he took the seat opposite Sam.

"Drinking on the job?" he asked, ordering a bottle of the same from the waitress.

"Perks of the job, I can drink during the work day so long as it's a Sutton brew," Sam nodded towards the approaching waitress.

"And you?"

"I'm the boss," Brian shrugged, thanking the waitress as she set the bottle in front of him. Brian wasn't a big fan of stout beers, but he was surprised to find he rather liked the taste of Sutton's. He wouldn't be drinking more than one in a sitting, but he wouldn't find it hard to finish either.

"So?" Sam waited expectantly.

"Not bad," Brian set the bottle down and leveled his eyes at Sam.

"So what do we need to discuss that we couldn't include Brown and Darcy?"

Sam smirked and tipped his beer once more, his eyes remaining locked with Brian's.

"I thought we should clear the air between us," he said finally, "after what happened, and then what I told you at Rosie's…"

Brian nodded, keeping his expression impassive. He was dying to ask, while also intent on keeping up the façade that he loved to play for the public. In the end, Sam willingly offered the information and so Brian didn't have to ask.

"My first test came back negative," his smile was gone now, "so did Jake's. That's my ex."

"Ah yes, the asshole who thought it was okay to fuck without a condom" Brian groused, while feeling a slight sense of relief for himself.

"You?"

Brian opened his mouth to answer when the waitress approached to take their order. Without looking at the menu Brian ordered a simple smoked salmon dish.

"I'm still waiting," Brian said finally, once the waitress had retreated with their orders.

Sam nodded, his expression betraying something Brian couldn't quite put his finger on. Was it sadness?

"I'm sorry," he said finally and Brian shrugged.

"Like I said before, sorry is bullshit."

"I don't get you," Sam replied and Brian bit his cheek to stop a grin from forming.

"I know," he tipped his beer back and took a long drink, "I like it that way."

The conversation turned then to work, and Brian was surprised to hear Sam had some very good ideas that were similar to the ones Brian was kicking around in his own head. By the time the lunch had ended Brian was feeling really good about the new working relationship, and feeling quite confident in the success Kinnetik would bring to Sutton.

When Brian and Gus arrived at the hospital later that day, he was stopped in the hall by Doctor Patch who informed him that they had a definite release date set for Lindsay. In just under three weeks she would be ready to travel the distance to Pittsburgh.

Lindsay was excited and anxious when they finally came into the room, and for the first time Brian saw some color in her complexion as she talked to Gus excitedly about moving back to Pittsburgh and living with daddy at his big house. Brian had told Lindsay about the estate, and she had been thrilled that Brian wouldn't be trying to take care of Gus from his loft – she didn't bother to hide her distaste for that place, at least as a home for her son anyway. Brian, now that he had a date, made a note to call the contractors about getting the work done in time for their arrival.

After a busy, but productive day Brian found sleep came easy and he just barely had time realize, before he fell asleep, that it was only one more day he had to wait.

* * *

It was 9:43am when Brian got the call. He had considered not answering as his attention was focused on the preliminary images the Kinnetik art department had sent him for the Sutton account. However, something moved him to answer and so he did – and that was when he was finally able to breathe again – at least for the moment.

His HIV test came back negative.

The woman on the other end of the line was quick to remind Brian that many first tests were a false negative, and that depending on how recent the exposure was the antibodies might not have had time to appear yet. Brian knew all this, of course, but he said nothing. Getting back a negative was always a relief – and every six months when he went through this process it garnered the same reaction out of him…immense relief and a release of tension he hadn't known had been building. The woman asked Brian if he'd like to schedule another test and he declined. By the time he'd need another test he'd be back in Pittsburgh. It could wait until then.

Hanging up the phone, Brian breathed a long sigh of relief before laughing softly. He knew each time he was with some strange guy that there was this risk – that was one reason he never let anyone fuck him…why he always topped. It was of course still dangerous, but slightly less so. Brian only hoped that Justin was as careful with the guys he was with.

Justin…Brian hadn't spoken to him since that awful phone call. Brian felt pretty dickish for having called to share the news on Justin's birthday, but it was too late to change that now. Still, Justin had promised to let Brian know his results, so all he could do was wait. He hoped Justin had already submitted for a test because he wouldn't feel completely at ease until he knew Justin's test was also negative.

Distracted beyond the point of continuing to work, Brian decided to stretch his legs and see what Gus and Ronnie were up too, and to check in on the packing company he'd hired to come in and pack up the muncher's house. He'd had them start in Mel and Lindsay's room, since neither woman would be there to use anything. He had already taken Lindsay some of her personal things, like her favorite lounge pants, her favorite PIFA sweatshirt, and her toiletries. But everything else was to be packed up and put into storage for someone…sometime…to go through. One upside to the packing was that the lesbians hadn't completely unpacked yet – the garage full of boxes they'd yet to go through. So at least they wouldn't have to pack an entire house up – just most of a house.

Poking his head into the bedroom he saw the two women packing the closet of clothes. They were intent on their task so Brian left them to it, heading downstairs where he found Gus and Ronnie at the table doing some kind of macaroni art craft. Brian barely contained an eye roll as he ruffled Gus's hair, going to the fridge for a bottle of water.

Turning his back to the fridge, Brian, for the first time since he'd come to Toronto, let his eyes wander the house. He could just see into the living room from the kitchen. There were knick-knacks and photographs and…the painting.

Justin's painting, his parting gift to the muncher's when they'd left Pittsburgh, hung over the television and Brian was amazed he hadn't noticed it sooner. Walking into the living room he stood in front of the painting, taking it in. The scene was dark but hopeful, the composition, in Brian's mind, exquisite. It really was a great piece and Brian felt a moment of sadness as he wondered if Justin had yet picked up a paint brush. He knew better than most what art meant to Justin, especially when he was in pain, or hurt, or dealing with any kind of trauma. The damn kid seemed to do his best work when dealing with his emotions.

Brian returned to his office then and without giving himself time to think about it, he dialed Justin's number and held his breath as the phone rang…and rang…and rang. No answer but the voicemail.

Closing his eyes, Brian spoke into the phone – wishing he could say more but saying all he could, for the moment.

"Hey. I got my results back. They were negative. I hope you are okay."

Brian bit his lips then, taking a few moments to muster the strength.

"I miss you."

* * *

Gus was laughing, trying to retell Brian a same funny story that Ronnie had told him earlier in the day and while Brian had no idea what the story was about, he found himself laughing along anyway. Gus's smile was so genuine, his giggle so infectious that Brian couldn't help it.

The same pink-haired server that always seemed to be at Rosie's when Brian and Gus came for dinner came over then, grinning too as he refilled their water glasses. He gave Brian a wink before he took off to take care of another table.

"Isn't that a funny story?" Gus's face was bright pink from his laughter, and Brian felt the urge to just pull Gus to him and hold him close forever. Brian didn't know it, but this would only be the first of many moments he'd feel like this – the first of many, many times that he'd feel so overwhelmed by the love he had for his son that he thought he would die from the pain it caused.

Pink-hair brought their food then, and for a several minutes they were silent, each digging in to their meal. Brian paused before biting into his chicken sandwich to watch as Gus attempted to fit the entire burger he'd ordered into his mouth – spilling lettuce and dripping ketchup down his shirt.

Brian turned with a soft smile to try and wave down Pink-hair for more napkins when he saw Sam, sitting across the diner and watching Brian.

"Stay here Sonny-boy," Brian slid from the booth and looked to his young son, "I'm going to get some more napkins."

Gus looked up at Brian, his face covered in ketchup and burger grease, nodding as he chewed. Brian let out a light chuckle before turning back to face Sam. The two men met each other halfway and Brian raised his eyebrow at the other man.

"I'm beginning to think you're stalking me," he said.

"Hey, I can't help it if Rosie's chocolate cake is the best in the city," Sam retorted. Brian saw his eyes flick between him and Gus.

"That's what his mother says," Brain titled his head towards where Gus sat, making an even bigger mess as he continued to try and eat his hamburger.

"I thought you'd want to know," Brian added, "my first test came back negative."

Sam's face, pleasant and smiling, cycled through what seemed to Brian to be about four additional emotions before settling with what appeared to be relief. It was strange, and if Brian had cared enough to examine what it meant he might wonder why his negative test had had such an impact.

"That's great," Sam's grin was genuine and Brian felt his own mouth twitch slightly in response.

"Yeah," he nodded, "I gotta get back."

"Sure," Sam was still smiling when Brian turned back around to head back to the booth where Gus was now wearing more burger and toppings than he had gotten into his mouth. Brian chastised himself for letting Gus order a hamburger – he would make sure Gus ordered off the kid's menu next time – he wasn't ready for the big burgers yet.

Grabbing a handful of napkins from the counter as he passed, Brian sat in the booth next to Gus and proceeded to try and clean him up, much to the irritation of his kid – who squirmed away and groused loudly at the attention. Brian laughed to himself – at least he wasn't spitting on the napkins first.

* * *

It was after midnight when the text came. Brian wasn't sure why he was awake or what had compelled him to check his phone but he was glad he did. There, on the screen was the one word he didn't know he'd been holding his breath to see.

It was from Justin and it was one simple word that meant everything, at least until the next test.

_Negative._

Brian considered calling him…but then decided it against it. There would be time to call later – maybe tomorrow. For now, Brian would revel in the relief he felt for both he and Justin.

* * *

The buzz of the phone against the wood top of the nightstand brought Brian from the brink of sleep. With a scowl he looked at the alarm clock and saw it was after 3am. Eyes bleary, he pressed the talk button on the phone without looking to see who was calling.

"What?" he barked, closing his eyes as blissful sleep beckoned him back into its embrace.

"Did you fuck someone without a condom?"

Brian's eyes flew open, sleep forgotten as the strained yet slurred voice of Justin spoke softly over the phone.

"Justin," Brian whispered his name. He sounded…hurt. Afraid. But mostly he sounded drunk.

"Where are you?" Brian asked, feeling concern bubble up in his gut. Justin could handle himself, he was always able to but somehow, the fact that he was in New York while Brian was in Toronto, made not knowing where he was and what was going on incredibly tortuous.

"Answer my question," Justin replied.

"No," Brian stated plainly, "I told you, it was the ex of another guy that I fucked…"

Justin laughed then and Brian heard the tinkling of glass and then the unmistakable sound of liquid being drank.

"Where are you?" Brian asked again, a bit more forcefully.

"You told me once; you said, 'never let anyone fuck you without a condom'," Justin paused then and Brian held his breath, "you said, 'I want you safe. I want you around for a long time.'"

Silence again. Brian didn't know what he was supposed to say or do.

"Do you remember that?" Justin asked, and his voice suddenly thick with emotion, to Brian it sounded like he was on the verge of tears.

Brian did remember. He remembered because that was the first time Justin had asked Brian to fuck him raw. God help him, Brian had wanted to, too. But there was no way on God's green earth he would. No way would he allow himself to imagine it, and no way would he allow Justin to think that it was ever okay to do. It might be okay for some guys, but not for Justin. It would never be okay for Justin because Brian had spoken the truth that night. He did want Justin safe. And he did want Justin around for a long time. He always had – he always would.

"No," Brian lied. It was surprisingly easy though he wasn't sure why he felt the need to lie.

There was silence on the phone and somehow Brian knew Justin knew he was lying.

"Where are you?" Brian asked a third time, gentler.

"I'm at home," Justin slurred and Brian heard the sound of ice in a glass, "or rather the piece of shit apartment I'm living in at the moment. I'm working my way through a bottle of Beam. Do you know why?"

Brian knew why. But he didn't answer.

"It reminds me of you," Justin's voice was a whisper now, and Brian felt an ache blossom and spread from the center of his chest.

"Don't ever let anyone fuck you without a condom," Justin repeated, distracted, like he was lost in a memory. "I think you loved me then," he laughed, "but you wouldn't admit it. You still won't. Not really."

"Justin," Brian urged the younger man to come back to him, "Justin!"

"What," he sounded flat now, back in the present and hurting.

Brian didn't know "what". He wasn't prepared for this. He could usually handle Justin's outbursts, his queen-outs, but not like this. He was hundreds of miles away and the guy was suffering and needing reassurance. Brian didn't know how to offer it, or what it needed to be and it was pissing him off.

"Go to bed," Brian cooed, hopeful his soothing voice could convince Justin to abandon his goal of drinking himself into oblivion.

"I miss you," Justin's voice was barely a whisper, and if Brian hadn't been straining to hear him he might not have caught the words – or detected the pain beneath them.

"I know," Brian closed his eyes as he pressed his head into the pillow, allowing himself to feel it too, and repeating the words he'd said in his voicemail, "I miss you."

"Brian, I want-," Justin started but Brian cut him off. It hurt – and he didn't want to hear it, not now.

"Please," Brian felt his chest tighten and his eyes moisten as he whispered, "go to bed. We can talk tomorrow."

A heavy sigh was his only response.

"Justin?"

"Tomorrow," he answered, strangely he suddenly sounded convincingly sober. Then the phone was silent and he was gone.

Brian lay awake until his alarm went off at 6:30am, and even as he went downstairs to start the coffee he couldn't get the sound of Justin's voice out of his head. He'd sounded positively devastated, and Brian knew, again, it was all his fault and he couldn't help but wonder when, or if, he'd ever stop hurting one of the few people he never wanted to hurt.


	10. Photographs

The next few days were a version of a comedy of errors. Brian tried calling Justin only to get no answer. Justin would call Brian back and Brian would miss the call. The two exchanged more voicemails over the course of those few days then they'd ever shared with each other in all the years prior.

Brian knew why he always seemed to be unavailable for Justin; in addition to working from the house in Toronto, taking care of Gus when Ronnie went home for the day, and visiting Lindsay, Brian was also coordinating the packing of the muncher's house as well as dealing with people showing up to look at the house, and trying to wrangle contractor's who were working at the West Virginia house. By the end of each day he barely had time to satisfy his own needs, let alone call people – though calling Justin was the one exception he would make, not only because they needed to talk about things, but also because of the possibility of him helping Brain satisfy a certain itch that desperately needed scratched.

But it wasn't to be. Brian wasn't sure what kept Justin from answering his phone all the various times of the day that Brian tried calling. He even stayed up until 2am one night just to see if he could catch Justin coming home from a club, or between clubs, or something but again, he got no answer. Brian tried not to let it bother him – and if it wasn't so damn comical he might have allowed his irritation to color his interpretation of the missing blonde. He might have allowed himself to think that Justin was just blowing him off – but he knew that wasn't Justin's style. Though it would be perfectly within his rights to do after the way Brian had treated him the over the last weeks, both in Toronto and after he'd gone back to New York. Brian simply could no longer pretend he didn't deserve somewhat of a tongue lashing from the younger man.

It wasn't just Justin he hadn't talked to, though. It had been weeks since he'd had a conversation with any of his friends, other than Lindsay of course, and Ted. When he talked to Ted it was simply to discuss Kinnetik business and nothing more. He felt effectively cut off and while it wasn't necessarily a bad thing – the distance from everyone and everything was nice and had given Brian a chance to think and adjust to the changes in his life – it was still jarring in itself. He would be returning to Pittsburgh eventually; he'd see his friends again eventually. But - he felt like he'd been away for so long he didn't really know what to expect upon his return.

Thus, it was a frustrating moment when his phone rang two days later while he was having dinner with Gus at Rosie's and he saw Justin's name on the screen. With a deep sigh, Brian ignored the call and let it go to voicemail. It wasn't that he didn't want to answer it – in fact he really, really wanted to - but he wouldn't be able to talk feely, sitting in the middle of a busy diner with his young son across from him and it wasn't like he could just leave Gus alone to take phone call…

Later that night, when Brian tried to call Justin back, he nearly threw his phone across the room when, once again, the little twat didn't answer. Voicemail. Again.

* * *

Brian didn't hear back from Justin that night, or the next morning. When Justin finally did call him back it was while Brian was at Rosie's, working through lunch with Sam. They were going over some of the ideas Brian had as well as looking at images and models for potential use in the campaign. Brian was using local Pittsburgh talent, and Sam was trying to convince him to look around Toronto as well.

The call came in from an unknown number and typically Brian wouldn't answer a call from an unknown number, but there were people looking at the house and Ronnie and Gus were out at the park. All the activity had him a little on edge, nervous something might go wrong - so he answered.

"Kinney," he barked roughly, flipping through a stack of contact sheets, looking for a specific sheet that had a trio of hot, young models posing with some rafting equipment.

"Hey," Justin's voice was hesitant, but Brain recognized it immediately.

"Hey," he replied, offering a slight smile to Sam as he turned away from the other man, putting aside the stack of contact sheets. "This isn't your cell number…"

"Dead battery. I'm at a pay phone round the corner from my new studio," Justin said.

"New studio?"

"Yeah," Justin offered a breathy laugh. "So it's been some kind of game of phone tag."

Brian grunted a laugh, "You could say that."

"I just did," Justin said.

"Little shit," he sighed, eliciting a slight chuckle from Justin before a long silence descended. Brian shifted his eyes back to Sam, grateful the man seemed to be preoccupying himself. To his credit, he kept his head down, his eyes on the sheets Brian had brought with him. Still it was obvious he was trying not to listen.

"So," Justin paused, "How's Lindsay?"

"Better," Brian replied, purposely vague as he didn't really feel comfortable with Sam knowing too much of his personal business. The other man, though he'd asked a few times, didn't know the circumstances around Brian's temporary presence in Toronto, and Brian wanted to keep it that way.

"You should call her," he added, "she has her cell with her now."

"Okay," Justin said. Brian knew there was more he wanted to say and he could sense Justin was about to launch into that "more". But as much as he wanted to clear the air with Justin, now was the not the time and as much as he hated pushing off this conversation, once again, it couldn't be helped.

"Look, I'm kind of in the middle of something. Will you be home later? Can I call you back in a few hours?"

Justin laughed then, and for the first time in some time it didn't sound bitter, or resentful, or hurt. It was a genuine, Sunshine-patented laugh. Brian smiled in spite of himself at the sound and felt a slight twinge of something that might have been jealousy at whatever had improved Justin's mood in the last few days, because it certainly hadn't been him.

"Sure. Promise?" Justin finally replied.

"Yes, Sunshine," Brian cooed into the phone, momentarily forgetting he had an audience, "I promise. Just remember to charge your cell."

"Oh I'll remember," Justin said back, "later then."

"Later," Brian was still smiling when he disconnected the call.

When he turned back to face Sam, Brian felt his smile twist into a scowl at the bemused expression on the other man's face.

"Sunshine?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

Brian just shrugged, "If you saw him, you'd understand."

"Boyfriend?" Sam asked.

"Something like that," Brian said after a long pause.

"Where is he now?"

"New York,"

Sam nodded.

"He was-," Brian stopped for a moment, "He's going through this too."

Sam's bemused smile faded and he regarded Brian with an expression that looked equal parts questioning, admiring, and sympathetic.

"I see," he said slowly.

"So far so good," Brian raised his glass in mock toast, feeling a sense of awkwardness wash over him under the eyes of the other man.

"So can we get back to business?" Brian sipped his water as he thumbed through his stack and pulled out the contact sheet he'd been looking for.

* * *

The backyard of the muncher's house had a large, wood and plastic playset which, Lindsay had told Brian a few days after they'd arrived in Toronto, had been one of the main selling points of the house. Gus was excited, she'd told him, to try out the swing and the slide and the monkey bars, once the weather warmed up enough that he could be outside without gloves and a hat.

That afternoon just happened to be one of unseasonal warmth in Toronto, and Gus and Brian enjoyed the afternoon sun as they killed some time before heading to the hospital to visit Lindsay. Gus was excited to play on the equipment, and Brian was glad to have something to distract Gus so he could call Justin.

Watching his son run around the yard, Brian smiled and dialed Justin. He hoped the little twat had charged his cell phone in the last several hours, even as he felt a slight twinge of frustration that they couldn't have, at least at that moment, any mind-blowing phone sex. Though he wondered if Justin would even be willing to… Brian wasn't sure where they stood on that front, having shoved him so hard out the door that everything was just left up in the air.

"Hey," Justin answered on the third ring, sounding slightly breathless.

"Did I interrupt something?" Brian asked, his tone laced with natural innuendo.

"It's the middle of the day," Justin deadpanned and Brian shook his head silently; he knew they were both painfully aware that the time of day wouldn't have mattered to Brian. But then another thought occurred to Brian, one he didn't verbalize but one that he could smack himself in the head over…neither he nor Justin should be fucking anyone yet – not if they wanted to be responsible and safe and it was a little, well, insensitive to make jokes.

"So what's new in the city," Brian said, breaking the slightly uncomfortable silence that had grown between them. "You've got a studio now? Does that mean you're painting?"

"Yes, and yes," Justin replied, grunting. Brian heard a succession of loud slams and then footsteps on stairs, echoing loudly.

"Where the fuck are you?" he finally asked.

"Doing laundry. One upside of this crappy apartment is there is a laundry room in the basement," Justin was panting into the phone, his voice along with his footfalls echoing loudly.

"What do you live on the 100th floor or something?"

"The fifth," Justin gasped back, grunting once more and then Brian heard a dull thud and the sound of keys in a lock.

"Maybe you should resume your gym routine, if you can't carry laundry up five flights," Brian furrowed his brow as he teased.

"Fuck you," Justin laughed, "It's a long trek with a bag of wet laundry," Justin added as Brian heard a door creak open and then slam shut.

"What, no dryer?"

"The dryer blows the building's main fuse every time it's used, and the fuse box is locked. No one but the manager can access it and he's an asshole who is never around. So we all just hang our clothes to dry," Justin groaned and Brian couldn't help but get slightly turned on by the noises he was making – they were eerily familiar to noises Justin made at other times. Simultaneously, he was revolted by the thought of stiff, rough clothes rubbing raw the soft, smooth skin of his little blonde Sunshine.

Suddenly Gus let out a blood-curdling scream and all thoughts vanished from Brian's head.

"What the?" Brian murmured. Heart pounding loudly he practically dropped the phone as he stood. Seeing that Gus was not critically injured, Brian searched the yard for the cause of his outburst. He could vaguely hear Justin on the phone, his voice rising in volume the longer Brian didn't respond.

"There's a bee!" Gus yelled then, poking his head out from behind the large oak that was in the center of the back yard.

"Fuck," Brian said under his breath, his skin suddenly hot from the rush of adrenaline.

"Well, leave it alone. It won't hurt you," he called out as he sat back down, keeping his eyes on Gus. His phone was still in his fist and resting in his lap. Brian looked around confused for a brief moment as he heard a voice yelling. It was a few seconds before he realized Justin was still on the phone.

"Brian! What the fuck! Hello?!" Justin was yelling into the phone when Brian raised it to his ears.

"Christ, stop yelling. I'm here," he said, slightly more gruffly than he'd intended.

"What the hell was that? Is Gus okay?" Justin asked, sounding concerned.

"Do you think I'd be casually continuing our conversation if Gus weren't okay?"

Brian paused before continuing, "He was bothered by a bee and had a queen out," Brian watched as Gus, abandoning the swing set for the time being, decided to run tight circles around the tree, his right arm, the one not in the cast, tracing the trunk as he went round and round and round.

"Is he allergic to bees?" Justin asked and Brian threw his head back. Of course Justin, the only person on earth allergic to Tylenol, would think of that.

"I don't fucking know," Brian sighed, "I guess if he gets stung we'll find out."

Justin didn't answer and Brian knew he sounded like a shit. He couldn't help it sometimes – the words just came out of him unbidden and uncontrolled and being as he didn't believe in apologies or regrets, he typically just moved past it; pretending it hadn't happened. The people around him found it hard to do the same but as far as Brian was concerned, that was their problem.

"So, this art studio…," Brian started, trying to get Justin back on track. He was curious to know more about it, and feeling anxious to hear that the reason he'd gone to New York in the first place, to paint, was actually beginning to happen. That the loss they both felt was going to be worth it in the end…

"Yeah. So it's like 20 blocks from here, but it's a great space and I'm sharing with a bunch of other great artists so the rent is kind of affordable. There're three other painters and two sculptors. It's actually an old warehouse that was converted and the light is fucking amazing. There's a pretty gorgeous view of the East River from this one spot. I think it'll be great," Justin breathed a deep sigh.

"It just feels good to have a space again," he added.

"Good," Brian replied, eliciting a soft laugh.

"You're a man of eloquence and many words, Brian," Justin added.

"So-," Brian paused to shake his head as Gus started doing somersaults and cartwheels across the half-dead lawn.

"Shit, he's going to break his other arm," Brian said quietly as he watched Gus fall in a heap with each cartwheel attempt.

"What's going on?" Justin asked and Brian relayed the scene to him, smiling at Justin's lighthearted laughter.

"He must be getting his cast off soon," Justin said and Brain grunted an affirmative.

"Not quite two weeks," he said.

"But back to you. So you're painting again?" Brian asked, diverting the conversation back to its original course. If nothing else, Brian wanted to make sure that Justin was doing art. The point of practically drop-kicking him out the door was so he could pursue this, take advantage of the attention that article had garnered and Brian was going to do all he could to make sure the little twat was doing just that. Otherwise all the fucking shit they'd been through the last few months would have meant nothing.

"I've got one started," Justin replied, his tone cautious and Brian smiled.

"Good," was all he said, imagining Justin's excessive eye roll on the other end of the line.

"I found a job delivering pizza," Justin said then, "the tips suck but it's enough. For now."

Brian remained silent. He would gladly pay for anything and everything Justin wanted or needed there, but he also knew the younger man would never ask, and would get pissed off and offended if Brian offered. He wanted to do it on his own and Brian knew it was important he do it on his own – but that didn't mean he wanted the guy to starve, or freeze, or end up homeless. Not that he really would; Justin had no shortage of people who would help him and Brian had every faith that things would never get that bad for him.

There was a long silence between them, and Brian wished he had the nerve to broach the other topic, the one they hadn't discussed, at least not civilly, not yet. But he was reluctant to break this harmony between them, even though it felt false with the heaviness of the HIV hanging over them.

"How are things with you? How's Gus? Aside from his cast and being afraid of bees I mean," Justin finally said.

Brian could hear the grin in Justin's voice and he rolled his eyes.

"Gus is good. I think he's good anyway," Brian watched his son, now back on the swing-set trying to swing as high as he could. Apparently the killer bee had moved on to another target.

"What do you mean? Is something wrong?"

Brian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as Gus leapt from the swing and ran towards the back of the fenced in yard. He started kicking a soccer ball against the wood fence, the crashing of the ball against the fence making a loud, echoing crack.

"Brian?" Justin sounded more hesitant now, nervous.

"Nothing's wrong," he parroted, ignoring Justin's sigh.

"We'll be back in Pittsburgh by early April," Brian went on, choosing to ignore the little voice in his head that was telling him to talk to Justin about his concerns with Gus. But was there really a concern with Gus? Kicking around the soccer ball, running circles around the tree, playing on the swings, he seemed okay. Brian wondered once more if he was imagining something that wasn't there, or conversely, if he was being willfully ignorant of some greater problem. Gus had dealt with a lot of change and traumatic events the few months and it would not be outside the realm of possibility if he were having trouble dealing.

Brian just wasn't sure…

"Gus and I will be moving into the house," Brian said, standing then, feeling suddenly restless."Probably Lindsay too. Eventually."

"The house…," Justin's voice trailed off and Brian detected a hint of sorrow.

"Well we certainly can't all live at the loft and since I've already purchased the damn place it made sense," Brian snapped, suddenly feeling defensive. Granted he and Justin had decided, together, that they were moving too fast, still it didn't mean it didn't hurt Brian when Justin left. It always hurt when Justin left, no matter the circumstances.

"I didn't mean-," Justin sighed heavily, "I didn't mean anything."

"I think Gus will love it out there," Justin added and Brian chewed on his lower lip for a moment, debating whether to say what was on his mind or not. He knew it would only make both of them hurt, but damn if he wasn't sick of all this shit. Things were suddenly too fucking complicated and it seemed much simpler to just admit certain things out loud.

"It's still your house," Brian said softly, "it always will be. The door will never be locked to you, and you can come home anytime."

Justin was silent on the other end of the line and for a moment Brian wondered if they'd been disconnected. Then he heard a loud sniff and he couldn't help but smile and give a little eye roll. Justin - always the drama-queen.

"You are so fucking unbelievable," Justin said with another breathy laugh, "asshole."

"It's true," Brian smiled, "I am."

* * *

The next two weeks passed in a blur for Brian. There was so much going on, so many things to do, so many loose ends to tie that even Brian, a self-proclaimed master of time-management, could barely keep track and keep things on schedule. As such, he and Justin didn't talk again, but they did exchange a few random text messages – just to let the other know they were okay. Brian even put his Kinnetik business dealings temporarily back into the hands of Cynthia and Ted – diverting Sam's frequent calls to them as he simply didn't have time to deal with it.

The business of selling Mel and Lindsay's house in addition to getting all their things into storage in Pittsburgh, while also monitoring the packers now that they were working in the parts of the house that Brian and Gus inhabited, contacting and approving plans for the remodel at the estate, gearing up to resume work on reopening Babylon, taking care of Gus, and continuing to visit and emotionally support Lindsay left Brian with heavy eyes and a pounding headache most nights. He was so tired and stressed that he wasn't even all that interested in sex – and that was more bothersome to him than the litany of issues the contractors working on the house seemed to have for him, what felt like every other day.

In addition to all that Ronnie, unfortunately, could not relocate with Brian and Gus back to Pittsburgh so Brian had to add finding a new nanny to the list of things he needed to take care of as soon as they got back to Pittsburgh. Brian tried to entice her, but it seemed she had a family, and grandkids in Toronto that she was simply unwilling to leave. No amount of money that Brian threw at her would even tempt her to give it a test run. Brian knew Gus would be upset to lose yet another adult from his life – and Brian felt the weight of that; he added it to the piles and piles of guilt he already carried with him.

Finally, things started to calm as they neared the last few days of their stay. It was a few days before they were scheduled to leave Canada for the States when Brian took Gus to the hospital to get his cast off. On the way over, Brian talked to him and he seemed excited to finally have use of his arm back, and he kept repeating to Brian, over and over, that he'd be glad to be able to actually scratch his arm when it itched, instead of having to tap his cast with a spoon.

Brian tried not to laugh at the seriousness with which Gus delivered this information, smiling as his kid rambled on and on.

At the hospital, though, things took a turn for the worse when the doctor came in with the saw they used for removing casts. At first, Gus was enthralled with the process, sitting on the exam table and excited to see the doctor do his magic. But when the doctor positioned the saw, Gus suddenly burst into tears.

"Shit," Brian cursed under his breath, pretending not to notice the disapproving look he got from the doctor.

"What's wrong Sonny-boy?" Brian rubbed small circles on Gus's back as the little boy turned and buried his face in Brian's chest.

"Gus," Brian's voice took on a more stern tone, but Gus just shook his head and mumbled something into Brian's shirt.

"I can't hear you kiddo," Brian grasped Gus's shoulders and pulled him back, leaning down so they were face to face.

"Take a breath," Brian's voice took on a soothing tone, one he'd quickly learned to use when Gus was upset.

"Tell me what's wrong," Brian said again as Gus's cries slowed.

"I don't," Gus gulped some air, "I don't wanna lose it," he finished.

"Lose what?" Brian let his hand sift through Gus's hair as the little boy's big, hazel eyes, still wet with unshed tears, looked at Brian with complete and total fear and sadness. The look Brian saw in his son's face was one far too old for a kid so young.

"My pictures," Gus's face screwed up and the tears spilled over again.

"We can save the pictures," Brian tried to sooth him once more, shooting his eyes up to the doctor who stood there awkwardly, a slightly annoyed look on his face. "Right doc? We can save the pictures?"

Brian shot the doctor a furious gaze and luckily for him, the man had the wherewithal to clear his expression and agree, "Yeah, we can save them."

"You promise?" Gus turned to look between the doctor and Brian.

"Yes," Brian nodded, once again looking to the doctor for his confirmation.

"Yes, I promise," he repeated, not to convincingly. Brian wanted to punch the asshole in the face. He certainly hadn't learned proper bedside manners in his medical training, especially for supposedly being a pediatric doc.

"We have to save Justin's most of all," Gus looked earnestly at Brian, big, fat tears sliding down his wet cheeks.

Brian brushed the tears away and smiled, "I know. We will."

The process for removing the cast went smoothly after that, and Gus and Brian left the Pediatrics wing to go see Lindsay, Gus grasping the cast with his right hand while he proudly swung his now cast-free left arm wildly around. Brian warned him to be careful, but Gus wasn't really listening and Brian wasn't too worried. He was just glad Gus was smiling and happy again. The poor kid had far too many mood swings, another of which occurred later that evening.

When Brian and Gus returned to the house after dinner at Rosie's, they found all of Gus's toys, and furniture, and clothes – save what Brian had packed for their last few days - were gone. Brian hadn't told the little boy that he was going to be shipping his stuff back to Pittsburgh ahead of time, and he felt like a shit for it. He'd meant to tell to him about it, to prepare him, but he'd simply forgotten. With all the shit going on it had honestly just slipped his mind.

It took nearly an hour for Brian to calm Gus down, and the upset little boy ended up curled against Brian, sound asleep, after crying himself into exhaustion.

There was reason to be worried, then, and Brian allowed himself to finally recognize that Gus was barely hanging on. Brian hated therapists, and psychologists, and psychiatrists, but he knew enough to recognize that the kind of help and healing Gus needed was not something Brian knew how to provide. He made a promise to himself to seek a good, safe place for Gus to get some help once they were back in Pittsburgh.

In the meantime, he hoped Debbie had everything she needed to get Gus's room setup at Britin (fuck if he couldn't stop thinking of it with that name, and it pissed him off!). Brian had called her earlier, asking if she and Emmett could set up Gus's bedroom at the house. She'd been thrilled to have been asked, though Brian had to none to gently remind her, when she started rattling on about shopping and decorating, now was not the time to make everything in Gus's new room different then what he knew. Brian knew enough to know that having all his things, set up just as they'd been in Toronto, would be a comfort for him. So he emailed photos to Emmett and told Deb that if she needed more help to call Jennifer. Brian knew she'd be willing to help, Molly too.

Brian didn't get much sleep, his last few nights in Toronto. He thought things would begin to get easier now that they were heading back home, but they only seemed to be becoming more difficult with each day.

* * *

It was Brian's last day in Toronto.

Finally, after nearly two months in Canada, Brian was going back to Pittsburgh and taking Lindsay and Gus with him. Granted, the circumstances surrounding the return were less than ideal – or rather awful and heartbreaking – but Brian was reveling in the fact that his son would be back home with him, and that Lindsay could hopefully thrive in a more familiar environment and with the constant in-person support of her friends, and hopefully her family, too.

The thought surprised Brian. He never would have thought he'd be hopeful for that. He knew Lindsay loved her parents, and there was a brief moment in time when Brian caught a glimpse of the good people they were, even if they chose to be ignorant and unaccepting of Lindsay's sexuality.

Her parents had called a few more times, and from what she'd told Brian. Apparently they'd had some good conversations. She still hadn't told them about her back injury, but Brian wasn't going to interfere with her decision in that regard. He was just glad they weren't making a big deal of Gus staying with Brian…at least as far as Lindsay had told him, they weren't.

Brian spent his final Toronto afternoon at the hospital taking care of last minute paperwork for Lindsay's medical transport back to the States the following morning. Ronnie was staying late with Gus while Brian took care of things. Once all the medical releases were signed and filed, Brian stopped by Lindsay's room briefly.

She was on the phone when he entered the room and from the surprised expression on her face she hadn't expected to see him.

"Hey, can I call you back?" Lindsay spoke into her cell, smiling at Brian as he pulled a chair over next to her bed and flopped down.

Brian could barely hear the voice of the other party, but he heard enough to know it was male.

"Yeah," Lindsay laughed into the phone and then with a quick goodbye, snapped the phone closed and turned to face Brian with a gleeful expression.

"I didn't expect to see you today," she smiled warmly.

"Who was on the phone," he nodded at her, leaning back in the chair with her transfer and release paperwork in his lap.

"Oh, uh, no one really," she stammered slightly and Brian just nodded.

"Sure," he shook his head and leaned forward. "So are you ready to get out of here?"

"God, yes," she breathed, sinking back into her pillows.

"We're scheduled to get on the road at 8am, so I'm guessing the doctors and nurses will be in here bright and early to poke and prod and sufficiently annoy you several hours beforehand," Brian cocked his eyebrow.

"Can't wait," she rolled her eyes.

"Okay," Brian stood then and Lindsay looked at him with surprise.

"Leaving already?" she asked and he shrugged.

"Last night in town. I've got to make the most of it," Brian winked. He wasn't really going to go out but Lindsay didn't have to know that.

While Lindsay smiled at his remark, something in her expression seemed off. It wasn't quite as bright and brilliant and authentic as usual. Lindsay might think she was good at hiding things behind her WASPish exterior but Brian knew her well enough to know that something wasn't quite right…something was bothering her, and Brian's mind went immediately to Justin; he would bet anything the little twat had called her, and probably told her about the HIV.

Grinning his own false smile, Brian leaned down and kissed his friend's cheek before straightening.

"See you mañana," he called as he left the room, his anger at Justin discussing their personal business with Lindsay causing his blood to boil. That little shit had no right to lay that on her; she had enough to deal with. And not only that, it was their private, personal business.

Brian, digging in his pants pocket for his cell, intending to call and ream the little asshole out, was not really watching where he was going as he crossed the hospital lobby towards the exit. Because he wasn't paying attention, he nearly ran into a nurse who was probably running late for her shift and thus also not watching where she was going. As she apologized for nearly running him over, Brian just smiled stiffly, casually glancing around him to make sure he wouldn't collide with anyone else.

That was when he saw him.

He was sitting stone-still, his back straight and his face void of any emotion. For some reason, the sight of him like that was more troubling to Brian than had he been visibly upset. He debated whether to approach him or not. They weren't exactly friends, but there was something about him, something about the ease with which Brian found he could talk to him that he chose this time to try and reach out. He may not be able to offer comfort, but he could certainly offer a listening ear and an unsolicited and honest opinion – should one be asked for; and maybe even if one isn't asked for.

Pocketing his cell phone he then folded Lindsay's paperwork and slid it into his jacket pocket before he moved slowly across the lobby to where Sam sat.

"Hey," Brian stood in front of him, watching as Sam seemed to shake himself out of a daze before he looked up to meet Brian's eyes.

He didn't speak, just offered a very weak smile before he nodded ever so slightly.

Brian stared at him, feeling his unease grow. Something was definitely wrong and he continued to struggle with himself over walking away or offering an ear. It felt wrong to just walk away, but Brian also didn't really want to be dragged into more drama – he had enough of his own to deal with. But Sam had been more than kind to him, in the face of Brian's rudeness no less. And they did work together so it wasn't like once Brian left Toronto he'd never see or talk to the guy again…

With a quiet sigh, Brian moved to sit next to Sam.

"Everything okay?" he asked, as casually as he could manage while giving Sam the opening to talk freely if he wanted.

The other man smiled, and Brian saw his eyes, vacant and dead when he had approached, were now growing shiny with tears.

_Fuck. Things were not okay_.

"No," he laughed then, and Brian saw a single tear slip from the corner of his eye and track down his cheek. Brian watched it, fascinated and terrified at the same time. He had a very, very bad feeling...

Biting at his lip, Brian tore his eyes away from the pained expression that was coloring Sam's face, instead choosing to watch the people coming and going through the lobby. It wasn't too busy, for a Tuesday afternoon, but there were enough people to distract him for a moment.

"I'm so fucked," Sam said then, and when Brian turned to look at him he was surprised to find the other man staring at him. His eyes were wide and he looked scared shitless.

Brian swallowed loudly as he nodded.

"Can I help?"

"Not unless you have a time machine," Sam smirked, a tear leaking from his other eye. He didn't wipe it away as it slowly traveled down his other cheek.

"What-," but Brian didn't get a chance to finish asking before Sam blurted it out and when he did, Brian felt all the air leave his lungs and for a brief moment he lost all ability to think or speak.

"I'm positive," Sam said.

Neither man spoke for several minutes. Brian sank back into his chair while Sam turned his face away.

"Fuck," Brian finally managed to whisper, hearing a sharp, barking laugh come from Sam.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. His voice caught on the word and Brian pretended not to notice when tears started to flow more freely.

It was another several minutes before Sam regained his composure enough to turn to face Brian once more.

"I just got the results," he held up his fist, a page crumpled in his grasp.

"It's-," he shook his head and smiled, "it's like a bad dream. I mean, I knew it was possible but after that first negative result I hoped…"

"It could be-," Brian started but once again, Sam cut him off.

"A false positive?" Sam shook his head. "The odds of a false positive are so fucking low it's practically impossible. It's more likely my first test was a false negative."

Brain swallowed his own fear. He couldn't help but immediately worry about his own upcoming one-month test. Because if Sam was positive and Brian had fucked him…

No. He wouldn't allow himself to think about it and he sure as shit wasn't going to tell Justin; as mad as Brian was at him for potentially talking to Lindsay about it, it was too much. So he wouldn't tell him. Not yet. Maybe after the next test…maybe.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered then and Brian cocked his eyebrow at him.

"How many times do I have to say it-," he replied, intending to repeat his mantra but when Sam held up his hand to stop him, the words died on Brian's lips.

"I know. But that's not why I'm sorry. I'm sorry because I lied to you."

Brian felt his stomach clench painfully and he resisted the urge to stand up and drag the other man outside, anger at Sam building upon his anger at Justin, swirling in the pit of his stomach.

"What do you mean," his voice was low and he knew Sam understood that he was treading on very thin ice.

"The circumstances around my exposure," he laughed bitterly then, "or rather my infection."

"I was with my ex right before I was with you. And he fucked a guy without a condom, a guy who tested positive. That's all true. But what I didn't tell you was that he and I…"

"What? He and you what?" Brian growled as Sam paused.

"Jake and I had been together for almost five years," Sam continued, "we lived together and were, as far as I knew, monogamous. But then I found out he'd been seeing this other guy – the positive guy – behind my back."

Sam stood then, throwing his test results to the ground and grasping at his hair before he turned to Brian.

Brian stood so they were eye to eye. He had a very bad feeling he knew where this story was going...

"Jake and I stopped using protection about three years ago," Sam shook his head, dropping his hands back to his sides, "I thought we were safe because I thought we were enough for each other. He was enough for me but apparently I wasn't enough for him."

"But _we_ were safe, right?" Brian asked without thinking, the fear that things were worse than he'd known palpable and threatening to paralyze him. He wanted to reach out and shake Sam, demanding answers. Brian had never, not once, fucked a guy without a condom and he hoped, hell he prayed, that even in his drugged up state that night that he'd been cognizant enough to still be safe. He felt his tenuous grasp on reality threaten to snap – all based on the answer to this question because if Sam had lied to him about this…fuck, Brian didn't even want to think about what he might do to him.

"Yeah," Sam stepped back as if seeing something startling in Brian's expression, "Yes. You wore a condom. I promise."

Brian stepped back then, too, putting some space between them as he tried to calm his beating heart.

Sam took a deep breath as he smiled sadly.

"The last time Jake and I had sex…well it was a mistake."

Brian wanted to laugh. Obviously it was a mistake; one that he might potentially have to pay for. One that he hoped to God Justin wouldn't have to pay for.

"But I never could resist his baby blues," Sam smiled wistfully and Brian saw a flash of Justin's face, his bright, blonde hair, his piercing blue eyes, his dazzling grin. Yeah, Brian could understand that impulsion.

Pulling his lips into his mouth Brian examined the man before him for a long moment. Making a decision, he gently grasped Sam's elbow and pulled him towards the exit, pausing only to pick up the crumpled up ball of test results from the floor.

"Come on," he said, ignoring Sam's inquiries as to where they were going.

Ten minutes later they were sitting together in the booth of some bar a few blocks from the hospital. It was obviously a hangout for breeders but right now that didn't matter. Neither Brian nor Sam were in the mood or the condition to be hitting on guys.

The two men had walked in silence, Brian leading as he occasionally glanced over his shoulder at Sam. Sam seemed to regain some of his composure on the trek and by the time they'd arrived he appeared to have control of his emotions.

Brian ordered a bottle of Beam from the bar, and the two men consumed several tumblers each before either spoke again.

"So," Brian poured them each a few more fingers of the liquor, "what about Jake."

Sam raised his eyebrows as he sipped his drink; he didn't knock it back like Brian did when he refilled his own glass.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Brian poured more into his glass, "is Jake positive too?"

Sam laughed and shrugged.

"I really don't know. I haven't talked to him since he contacted me after his first test. I guess I should take his silence as confirmation."

Brian nodded, his eyes boring into his glass. He could feel Sam's stare on him but he avoided looking up just the same.

"I know what you're thinking," Sam said and Brian couldn't help but smirk.

"But you wore a condom and we only fucked once," Sam's hand reached out then, landing on Brian's and causing Brian to raise his eyes to look at him, his smirk fading from his face.

"Jake and I were together I don't even know how many times after he'd been exposed, and unprotected, and…," Sam's eyes were growing wet again.

"Fuck!"

The few customers of the bar quieted momentarily at Sam's outburst, and Brain saw the few in his eye line glance towards them before resuming their own conversations, or returning to their own bottomless pits of despair.

"I loved him and I thought he loved me and damn him! I simply cannot fathom how he could do this to me," Sam slumped back against the bench seat.

"We were even talking about marriage, right before I found out," Sam's eyes were dry again and Brain watched as his fear and sadness began to transform into anger.

"How did you?" Brian sipped his drink.

"Find out?"

Brian nodded and Sam sighed heavily.

"I came home early from a business trip and they were fucking. In our fucking bed. In our fucking house," Sam said quietly, but his words were laced with hurt and anger.

Brian was silent. In his mind he was reliving all the times Justin had come back to the loft to find Brian in their bed, fucking some trick. Suddenly, he felt sick. While he and Justin had never once been monogamous it was only now that Brian saw how painful that sight must have been, no matter what Justin said or did to convince Brian he didn't care. The fact was Justin did care. It was as innate to him as breathing – it was his very nature and really, it was one of the many things Brian loved about him. Justin may have suppressed his desire for a monogamous relationship because in order to be with Brian he had too, but that didn't mean he'd stopped wanting it. That didn't mean simply because he smiled when he came home to find Brian shooting his load into the ass of some fucking trick that it didn't hurt him.

"What?" Sam was staring at Brian curiously. Shifting in his seat, Brian downed the remainder of his drink in one gulp before shaking his head.

"Nothing," he shrugged, "you just reminded me of someone."

"Sunshine?" Sam smiled and Brian felt a scowl cross his face.

"Don't call him that," he said, a little too brusquely before sighing, "his name is Justin."

"Okay, Justin," Sam leaned forward then, reaching for the bottle and pouring a good amount into his glass.

"Tell me about him," he leaned back and took a sip.

"No fucking way," Brian said his voice low, warning.

The worst part about Sam reminding Brian of Justin in this scenario was that it meant Brian was assigned the Jake role. And the sad truth was Brian _was_ Jake; he wasn't a cheater or a liar, not in the way Jake apparently was but still - if it weren't for Brian, Justin wouldn't be going through this HIV scare – just like if it weren't for Jake, Sam wouldn't be positive. For the first time in his entire, gay life, Brian regretted his behavior, and felt ashamed of his promiscuous behavior.

"Are you going to tell him?" Sam asked then, seeming to choose to ignore Brian's angry and defensive response.

"No," Brian answered, pushing his glass away. He was done drinking. He was done being friendly and understanding. He was just done. The realization he'd come to was simply too much to bear.

Sam seemed to pick up on his definite shift in mood, sitting up a little straighter and setting his glass in front of him.

"Look I'm sure you and Justin will be fine. Just let me know, okay?"

"Yeah. Sure," Brian said absently, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and grateful that he didn't have to make up an excuse to leave.

"I have to relieve my babysitter," standing, Brian tossed a fifty onto the table, "that should cover it. Can you get home safely?"

"Yeah, you?"

"That's what taxi cabs are for," Brian quirked his mouth into a sardonic grin as he tilted his head slightly. Without another word he turned and left the bar, choosing to walk very slowly back to the hospital where he knew there was a line of taxi's waiting. He took his time, reexamining his life's priorities. By the time he got back he was stone-cold sober and more confused about his life and those in it than he'd been before and even though he felt okay to drive, he left the car and took a cab back to the muncher's house.

After all that had happened in the last several weeks, it was better to be safe than sorry.

* * *

As March turned to April, Brian, Lindsay and Gus returned to Pittsburgh. The familiarity of the city Brian claimed as his own was welcoming, and he even caught Lindsay smiling and seeming to breathe easier now that she was back.

While flying would have been faster – it was, oddly, more dangerous for Lindsay so Brian had rented a medical transport van and they'd driven back. Gus had found the van fascinating, and nearly half of the almost six hour drive was spent explaining all the bells and whistles of the vehicle to the little boy. The medical technician monitoring Lindsay on the trip didn't seem to mind, and Brian was glad. He didn't have the mental capabilities at the moment to provide the attention Gus would expect. He couldn't stop thinking about Sam and his diagnosis. He couldn't stop thinking about whether or not Justin had told Lindsay about the scare.

Brian tried to read Lindsay's expression as they drove; he tried to gauge her reaction when he'd say certain things. But he couldn't figure it out. Now he wasn't so sure that Justin had said anything, and he felt his anger slowly dissolve.

The first stop for them, once back in Pittsburgh, was to Alleghany Physical Therapy and Rehabilitation. They had a private room, ready and waiting for Lindsay. Brian, holding Gus's hand as the hospital staff moved Lindsay from the van and through the halls to the room, couldn't help but see flashbacks to that month right after the bashing – when he would sit outside Justin's room every night and watch him sleep, or struggle against the nightmares that would plague him. Nothing in the hospital had changed since that time; the paint was the same, the furniture was the same, Brian guessed even the nurses and staff were the same. Suddenly he grew fearful that someone might recognize him but then he realized it had been almost five years – the chances that he would be remembered were slim…

Settling Lindsay into her room, Brian then took Gus, via taxi, to the loft.

The house in West Virginia was not quite ready for Brian and Gus to move in, so for their first several days back, they had to stay at the loft. Gus thought it was incredibly cool, while Brian found it incredibly irritating. The loft wasn't made for little kids and while he knew his fancy Italian furniture and fixtures, hardwood floors and whatever the fuck else were replaceable (albeit expensively so!), he still couldn't quite relinquish all his OCD tendencies when it came to Gus. He found himself sniping at him more than necessary when he'd start playing a little too roughly.

As a result, aside from sleeping, Brian and Gus were hardly at the loft. Brian hadn't officially returned to work yet, so during the day they'd go visit Lindsay, go to the park, or go downtown to some museums. For dinner they went to Debbie's, unless she was working in which case Brian took Gus to the Liberty Diner. Brian also took Gus to Michael and Ben's so he could see his baby sister. He loved those visits, and would be on the verge of an emotional breakdown when Brian would make him leave, or when Michael would take JR upstairs for a nap.

At night, Gus would go to sleep around 9pm and Brian would stalk the online chat rooms, participating in cybersex that almost always left him fairly unsatisfied before he'd take a shower and climb into bed. Some nights Gus would be sprawled across the king size bed, taking up almost all the space, which for a tiny little boy was a surprising feat. Thankfully, he was a heavy sleeper so when Brian would move him to one side of the bed, he'd just curl up in a ball and sleep away.

The last night they spent in the loft, the house ready for them to move in the following day, Brian stayed up a little later than usual, forgoing his cybersex routine in order to go through some of his belongings at the loft. For the most part, everything at the loft would be staying there, but in addition to his clothes and some toiletries Brian did have a very small collection of personal items that he wanted to take with him. Among those, the framed photograph that sat atop his dresser - of him bottle-feeding Gus, and the first sketch of Justin's he'd ever purchased way back when he'd barely known the kid, at the GLC art show.

While he was digging in his closet, searching for the framed sketch where he'd hidden it under a pile of cashmere sweaters, shortly after Justin had moved in, he came across a shoe box he didn't recognize. The box was for a pair of Size 9 Nike's and immediately Brian knew it was Justin's. It was light, seemingly empty, but when Brian shook it as he pulled it from the back of the closet he heard some items rattling around.

Curious, Brian sat on the edge of the bed, opened the box, and stared down at its contents slightly surprised by what he saw.

It was a time capsule of the last five years, starting with a couple photographs, one of Brian and Gus from the hospital the night Gus was born, and one of Brian and Justin from the art show at the GLC. Both were photos that Brian had never seen and he had to wonder how they'd come to be in Justin's possession. Brian vaguely remembered Mickey taking the one in the hospital but the other…had it been one of Lindsay's lesbian friends? Brian remembered that night, but he didn't remember this photograph.

Beneath those photos were other items that marked significant moments in Justin's life and in many cases, Brian's life too. There was a King of Babylon flyer from 2001, a copy of the first issue of Rage, a Rage release party postcard and mask, a Carnivale poster that featured the artwork Brian had commissioned Justin for. There were several newspaper articles and opinion pieces from the bashing, a few very rough sketches that Brian recognized as being from the time right after Justin started drawing again; there was a flyer for the Liberty Ride, the medical report that had declared Brian's cancer in remission, the storyboard Justin had stolen from the failed Rage The Movie project, a few blank Hollywood postcards, an invitation to their canceled wedding…and so much more.

Brian filed through the items with a bemused expression. He wouldn't have pegged Justin as the sentimental type – though it made perfect sense that he was. But what Brian didn't understand was why Justin had left this stuff at the loft. Did he mean for Brian to find it? Had he forgotten about it? Did he intend to return for it one day?

Brian lifted the stack of photos and articles and postcards from the box, leaving one item in the bottom - a photo that caught on the corner of the box. When Brian saw it, it leveled him so completely he actually thought he might pass out from the surge of emotions it conjured within him.

There, staring up at him from the bottom of the box was a picture of Justin and Daphne, happy and smiling and young. It was from the Prom; it was from _before_ and it was likely the very last picture of Justin taken _before_. He looked so happy and young; so hopeful and youthful and without the worry and pain and concern that would consume him _after_.

"Fuck," Brian whispered as he gingerly lifted the photo and stared at it.

He desperately wanted to go back in time, to that night, and stop himself from going to that dance. But then he'd recall the joy he'd seen on Justin's face when they'd danced; hell, the joy he'd felt when they'd danced would wash over him and then he couldn't conceive of wishing that memory or those feelings away. He had to honor what that night had meant to them, at least before the awfulness, since Justin could not.

Brian couldn't remember a time before or since that he'd felt so free and happy. So unhindered and so unencumbered by what the hell anyone else thought about him. Not that he ever cared what anyone else thought about him but that night, had any of his friends known he was going to do what he did, he knew the shame they'd have laid on him would have deterred him from his goal of giving Justin the one thing he had explicitly asked for; the one thing that could give Justin one happy memory.

Brian never spoke of it to anyone, but what continued to hurt him more than anything - when he allowed himself to think back on that night - was not the physical trauma or the struggles of Justin's rehab but rather the fact that he would never remember their dance. Yes, the rehab was awful and the fact that Justin never really regained full use of his hand for drawing was terrible, but that night and their dance...Justin had been so damn happy and they had been fucking fantastic and no matter what Brian did Justin would never, ever be able to remember it. It was, probably, the one thing Brian allowed himself to feel regret about.

Glancing at Gus, sleeping soundly in the bed, Brian put everything back into the box and stood. Unplugging his cell phone from the charger he walked to the far side of the loft, to the wall of windows that overlooked the street. It was late, after 2am on a Wednesday night and so the street below was virtually deserted.

Brian pressed the speed-dial for Justin and waited. He guessed he probably wouldn't answer, and he was right.

"Hey. So Gus and I are at the loft, heading to, well, Britin as you ordained it, tomorrow. But I found a box of pictures and stuff here in my closet. I know it's yours because I sure as shit don't wear size 9 Nike's."

Brian paused to smile to himself.

"Anyway. I looked inside. There are a few photos but the rest is just…well, I'd say junk but obviously you kept it for a reason so it means something to you. I won't get rid of it I just…I just wanted to remind you it was here. That's all."

"So…later."


	11. The Only Way Is Up

Brian's default setting with handling stress – his "go to" coping method – was sex. It always had been and he thought it always would be. Fucking as often as he could and as many men as possible. Hot men of course - and never the same guy twice. That was a self-imposed guideline he mostly kept too. One he'd created for himself long before Justin ever came along.

In his younger days he'd quickly come to realize he would get bored with knowing what to expect from his tricks; it was a rare man indeed that Brian could fuck more than once and not find his mind wandering towards other things. In complete opposition to that was the addictive thrill of tricking a different guy every night; there were so many unknown possibilities. Sure, sometimes the guys had weird kinks or fetishes that even Brian was leery to try; or they slobbered all over; or they couldn't get it up more than once (Brian liked all-night fuck sessions best, of course); or worst of all, they had no self control and would come so fast Brian barely had time to realize it had happened. Sometimes though, Brian would be surprised. Those moments had been rare over the years but when they presented themselves Brian would take full advantage and repeat the fuck until boredom inevitably set in - because it always did.

Then Justin happened.

Upon first sight, Brian didn't expect he'd ever want to fuck that ass again. After all, the kid had been a virgin, it was so blatantly obvious – so how could he possibly surprise Brian? But when Brian did find himself with the kid a second time, then a third time, then again and again he realized that though in the beginning he'd had to instruct the kid on what to do and how to do it, he was also a quick study and soon was doing things to Brian that no one else had. And _that_ was surprising. Sure – he might have kept the kid around at first because the sex was exciting and different and Justin was one of very few who could keep up with Brian's stamina – but the reason he continued to let Justin hang around after the first few times changed somewhere along the way. He realized one day that he actually liked Justin, and genuinely enjoyed his company – mostly, and as much as Brian allowed himself to enjoy anyone's company.

Those feelings, entirely undesired and unwanted and actively avoided for so long, had built upon themselves over the years the two of them were together, or apart, until Brian found himself at this point. Now. In love with a man twelve years his junior and just embarking on his life's journey…

The timing was for shit.

The point of all this though, was sex was how he'd dealt with the crap thrown at him - in his past, in his present, probably in his future, too; maybe. It always had been – and until he met Justin, he had thought it always would be. No matter _who_ or where – a fuck in the diner's bathroom, or the bathhouse, or the bedroom of the loft…whatever.

When life handed Brian lemons he didn't make lemonade, he made orgasms.

His "relationship" with Justin over the years had varying degrees of significance to Brian. But one thing that had never changed within him was his want, and desire to fuck, and fuck often. As he'd come to realize the innateness of Justin's desire for love and monogamy Brian was also certain of his own innateness with regards to sex for sex's sake – often and everywhere. He couldn't foresee a future where he wasn't getting what he thought he needed to live. Of course he wouldn't mind if it was Justin making him come over and over but Brian also knew he wasn't above seeking out a willing mouth or ass at the baths when necessary. The inevitable release and addicting rush of endorphins were the desired outcomes – the man providing the service was, most of the time, irrelevant. Brian knew how awful it was to think that way and he'd never say as much to Justin – even if the desire for random tricks was slowly (though very slowly) losing its appeal. The point was sex was Brian's coping mechanism; and possibly his one addiction he would never be willing to part from.

In Toronto he'd been effectively distracted and so far out of his natural environment he didn't have much time or opportunity to miss his usual extracurricular activities…too much anyway. Upon returning to Pittsburgh – or Pittsburg-adjacent – once they moved out to the house in the northwest panhandle of West Virginia, Brian's urge to go to the baths and get his dick sucked so he could forget his troubles, his urge to go out and pound fast and furious into some hot but forgettable ass, quickly grew strong once more; Raging, one could say. Liberty Avenue beckoned him, his habitual promiscuity trying desperately to tempt him back.

But he couldn't, and he wouldn't. He felt both incapable, and unwilling. He was, for one of a few a rare moments in his life, being responsible. It pissed him off, to a certain extent. Though he never once, in all his years out on the scene, asked a trick what his HIV status was before he fucked him up the ass, now it was all he thought about. Brian sincerely wondered if he'd ever be the same. He wondered if he wanted to be same.

He wondered if he hadn't already changed, and that thought was the most frightening.

He considered all the men, over all the years, and marveled that something like this HIV scare hadn't happened to him sooner. Or maybe it had – and he just hadn't known. That was the more likely scenario and not one that made him feel any better about his past behaviors, or his current desire to return to the scene that allowed him to indulge in his wicked ways.

The mounting stress and responsibility was wearing him down and he desperately wanted nothing more than to escape into his old life. But he couldn't. His old life was what had led him to this moment of crisis; his old life was finally catching up to him.

The morning Brian packed Gus, and their few belongings, into the more modest (and practical – the thought of which made Brian scowl – he made as much money as he did so he wouldn't have to be practical!) Mercedes sedan he'd purchased a few days prior, these thoughts were swirling around in his head making him dizzy and irritable. Gus was oblivious, chattering on about the new house. He'd seen pictures but hadn't been there in person yet. Still, he was excited to go swimming in the large pool over the summer, and run around on the large grassy lawn that led from the back of the house down to a small copse of trees. These thoughts eventually lead to him asking if maybe he could get a puppy.

Brian had balked at the thought – but he also knew dogs could be therapeutic and if he hired a nanny he could be sure that he never had to take care of the damned thing. It wasn't that Brian hated dogs; he just didn't want one around – around him specifically. For Gus though…well, God help him, Brian had told his son maybe.

Gus had expressed the expected level of excitement when they'd arrived at the house – he sprinted through the first level, his footfalls echoing loudly on the hardwood floors and his tiny voice echoing loudly as he kept exclaiming how "cool" it all was; how much mommy would love the suite of rooms Brian had had built.

He'd converted one of several large sitting rooms in the back corner of the house into a small, private suite, complete with wheelchair access. Brian hoped the wheelchair accessibility would end up not being an issue but if it was, he wanted to be sure Lindsay would feel comfortable, and that she would be able to get around and be as self-sufficient. He knew his friend well enough to know she would hate not being able to take care of herself – as much as she possibly could.

When Brian asked Gus if he wanted to see his room, the kid had whooped and darted past Brian as they ascended the long staircase. He took off running down the upstairs hall, his head swiveling side to side to look into each open door as he darted past. Brian would have laughed if not for the odd, vacant feeling in his gut. He had never intended to live in this house without Justin. He'd bought it for them - together. But now he was here and Justin was not and everything just felt so fucked up.

It had only been about 8 hours since he'd left Justin the voicemail about the little time capsule he'd left behind at the loft but the blonde hadn't called him back or even acknowledged the receipt of the message. Brian tried to convince himself it was because he was sleeping or painting; that he was just busy and that it had only been 8 hours. But the fact was, he just wasn't sure anymore. Communication between them had been sketchy at best for awhile now.

After the emotional roller coaster of the last six weeks, starting with the car accident and Brian's temporary relocation to Toronto and ending (or coming near an end) with Brian's anti-climatic return to Pittsburgh, everything he'd done had been because _he_ thought it in the best interest of Justin, or Gus, or Lindsay. Even Sam, to a small extent.

Brian had never really considered himself to be so controlling but he was quickly realizing, as events kept happening around him that were decidedly out of his control, that those parts of his life that he could try and control he was, thus overcompensating for the things that were out of his control – while also making decisions for those around him even if he shouldn't be. Like for Justin.

"It looks like my room at my old home!" Gus shrieked as he came to a skidding halt in front of a door near the end of the long hallway.

Brian pulled himself from his brooding thoughts and picked up the pace, stopping behind Gus and resting his hands on his son's shoulders.

"It should," Brian smiled, squeezing gently then releasing as Gus started forward into the room.

Brian followed, taking it in. Debbie and Emmett had done a great job of recreating the room. It was similar enough, yet also a little bit different. Brian noticed a few new touches - like the curtains on the windows, no doubt hand sewed by Debbie.

The new room was larger than Gus's old room, so there was a lot of wall space to be filled with new Disney movie posters and other artwork, different than what had been hanging in Toronto. Brian's eyes scanned the room, not really looking too closely but noting the slight changes regardless.

"Daddy! Look!" Gus was standing near his bed, pointing at a fairly large painting that hung over it.

Brian moved to stand behind Gus again, his eyes taking in the painting even as his breath caught in his throat. He would recognize the artist's work anywhere – the distinct way the brush strokes crossed the canvas; the unique, not-quite realistic but not quite impressionistic way he captured people and scenes. The obvious subjects though, that was the biggest giveaway.

The painting, roughly 14"x20", was surrounding by a thick, white, wood frame which accentuated the bright shades of greens and blues that made up most of the painting.

"It's us!" Gus turned to look at Brian, a grin on his face. Brian couldn't help but smile back down at his son.

If this was the reason that Justin had been out of touch and hard to reach…well…Brian would certainly forgive him that.

The painting was simple – yet it spoke volumes. It depicted a plain scene, a man and a little boy, hands grasped between them, walking together down a tree lined path, laughing. The little boy was gazing up adoringly while the man gazed down, joyful. The most fascinating thing, though, were the expressions on the figures. They weren't necessarily distinct but Brian never doubted the emotions they depicted. It was all there to see, even if you couldn't explicitly see it. Fuck if Justin didn't know what he was doing. At that moment Brian knew Justin belonged in New York, even if it hurt to think.

The painting was a living, breathing thing and the longer Brian stared the more he saw it _living _before him. The trees that lined the path were mottled in varying shades of green while sunlight dappled through the painted leaves casting soft shadows on the two figures. The small patches of sky visible were a brilliant blue that only served to remind Brian of Justin's eyes. The grass was bright, dotted with tiny wildflowers and bunny rabbits and birds. There was, in fact, a lot of detail in the painting and the more Brian stared the more he saw. There were birds amongst the branches of the trees, squirrels in the midst of scurrying from branch to branch, and butterflies fluttering soft wings in the air. Brian thought he even saw bumblebee's hovering over the tiny flowers. The leaf patterns even gave the illusion that there was a soft breeze blowing through, and he could almost see the light wind lift and flutter a section of Gus's hair.

Gus, deciding to get a closer look, climbed up on his bed and stood on his pillows, pressing his nose nearly into the painting. Brian wanted to tell him that he would see it better from slight further away, but it was Gus's painting - he could look at it however he wanted.

"Daddy?" Gus turned then, his expression suddenly very serious.

"What's up, Sonny-boy," Brian reached a hand out to steady the little boy as he wobbled on his feet, the soft bed not a stable surface for clumsy boys.

"Can Justin teach me how to paint?" he asked.

"Justin lives in New York pal," Brain answered softly, unable to suppress the feelings of guilt that flared up at the disappointed expression on Gus's face.

"Oh," Gus frowned, "is New York far away?"

"It is kind of far. But if he comes to visit I'm sure he'll show you how to paint. And mommy can show you," Brian added, hopeful that prospect would alleviate some of Gus's disappointment. "She knows how to paint, too."

"Okay," Gus sighed in response, "but we have to get really good paint."

Brain chuckled softly as he nodded, "we will."

* * *

One call to Deb that night after Gus was in bed and all was revealed.

It seemed that the painting Justin had eluded too on the phone with Brian the last time they had spoken was the one now hanging in Gus's bedroom. He had started it not long after he'd returned to New York but when his mother (who had ended up helping Debbie and Emmett set up Gus's room) had casually mentioned she was helping set up Gus's room Justin had poured himself into the piece – determined to finish it before Brian and Gus moved in. That was the reason for his absence and the lack of communication he'd had with Brian. He had been practically living at his studio – obsessed with creating a perfect scene for the little boy.

Debbie's admonishment at the end of their call, that Brian contact Sunshine immediately and grovel in gratitude, was met with amusement. Of course Brian would call Justin, but whether he would grovel in gratitude or just let him know, in his 'Brian Kinney way' that the gift was appreciated and much loved, was not Debbie's business.

Brian tried calling Justin after hanging up with Debbie. And he got his voicemail.

"Par for the course," Brian murmured as he hung up, disappointed and not bothering to leave yet another message. The things he wanted to say he preferred weren't left on a voice recorder – where anyone might ever overhear them.

* * *

The following day Brian hosted a dinner party/get together with what little of "the gang" remained in town and available to attend. No one had been to the new house yet, aside from Deb and Emmett. In fact no one even knew of its existence until Brian was back from Toronto with Gus and announced his move. To say there was a shocked silence from his friends would be an understatement.

Brian hired Emmett to cater the dinner though told the nelly-bottom that he better bring enough staff to work as Brian expected Emmett to be there as a guest, not a party coordinator. Emmett had laughed like Brian was crazy to suggest such a thing – but Brian had learned as he'd watched Emmett grow his business that the man was nearly as much of a workaholic as he was – and he had earned Brian's respect for that. Not that Brian would ever tell him as much, though.

The party was going to be unlike any party Brian had thrown before – the only parties he had ever given that weren't specifically sex parties or orgy's included Michael's surprise 30th which even still had been full of sex and booze, the Carnivale event for the GLC, which also had been full of sex and booze, and his Grand Opening reception for Kinnetik, lacking sex outright but certainly full of booze.

This dinner party had to be family friendly, which mean no sex, and little – or rather responsible – booze.

It was just too bad it was still a little too cool in the evenings to set the dinner on the back patio. Emmett, when he'd arrived earlier in the day with his crew had lamented not being able to bedeck the trellis on the back of the house, which featured a thick, mature clematis vine that was greening up nicely, with hundreds of white lights. His vision also including stretching a sheer white canopy over a long dinner table that would be set with fine but durable stoneware clear crystal goblets of red wine, with sprigs of cherry and crabapple blossoms and tiny pots of sweet alyssum all across the tabletop, the scents of the flowers mixing to perfume the air.

Yes, Emmett waxed poetic about that missed opportunity for near an hour. Finally, to silence the other man, Brian promised to throw another dinner party later in the summer to give Emmett the chance to employ said decorations – with a few modifications if necessary – and with a squeal of delight and clap of his hands, the missed opportunity was forgotten, certainly filed away for use at the promised future opportunity.

Gus was thrilled to have everyone at the house, and he was thrilled to be the center of attention. He even took down the painting, with Brian's help, and insisted a place be set at the table for Justin. He wanted to show it off, and he wanted the painting to represent him. But when Brian asked if Gus wanted anything out for Melanie, the little boy had looked away and shrugged and without a word, run back to his bedroom. Brian, intending to go after him, was stopped by Emmett with some silly kitchen emergency and so he didn't get a chance to check in on him as soon as he'd have liked. A little over an hour later, when Brian finally got upstairs to make sure Gus was okay he found him sitting on his bed, in his dress pants and jacket, coloring.

"Whatchya doing?" Brian asked as he came into the room, surprised to find Gus already half dressed. Brian hadn't declared any special dress code, but Gus was apparently excited to 'dress up' and attend a 'grown-up party', so Brian intended to let his son wear whatever he wanted.

"Just coloring," the little boy shrugged.

Brian nodded, watching him. Gus stared at his coloring book, his head tilted slightly. He looked like Lindsay when he drew, or colored, even though his features were decidedly miniature versions of Brian there was something in his expression when he was relaxed and at ease that mirrored his mother.

Brian knew Gus was also missing his other mother. He just didn't know what he could do to make it better. He was at a loss.

"Do you want to call mommy before everyone gets here?"

Because of the dinner preparations and the distance of the house to the city, Brian hadn't been able to take Gus to see Lindsay as he usually did every day. Thus, the grin that he got at the suggestion was all the answer Brian needed.

Brian had wanted to bring Lindsay out for the dinner – but she had declined the invitation, which concerned Brian. They'd only been back in Pittsburgh for a week, and each day when he'd gone to visit her she had seemed off. Something was certainly bothering her, but whatever it was, she hadn't shared it with Brian; yet.

It was a successful call – Brian listened to Gus and then he spoke to Lindsay briefly as well. It seemed the short call was certainly needed on both ends as Lindsay tearfully thanked Brian for letting Gus call, and Gus was all smiles as Brian helped him finish getting dressed, tying his tie for him.

Michael and Ben arrived soon thereafter, earlier than the others so to give Gus some one on one time with his sister. Brian, Emmett and the Novotny-Bruckner pair enjoyed a beer together making small talk while they watched Gus play with the baby.

The scene was so surreal and Brian wondered when the hell he'd become domestic. He had been thrust into the role without consultation and while most of the time he didn't mind it suddenly, watching his son play with JR while standing around with his friends drinking beer he wanted nothing more than to run screaming from the house and lose himself in sex, drugs, and hard liquor. His life had never felt more unlike his own then it did at that moment. He didn't recognize himself. Everything was backwards and unfamiliar and he was hosting a fucking dinner party. A dinner party!

What the fuck had his life become?

It wasn't long before Deb and Carl showed up with Hunter in tow, followed soon thereafter by Ted and Blake and by that time Brian was practically crawling out of his skin. It was all he could do to maintain a calm front – but he did for Gus. Several times through the dinner he caught Deb's eyes on him, though, and he was pretty sure she was seeing through that mask. She knew. She always seemed to know.

Keeping the night fun for Gus was really all that kept Brian tethered to the ground; he was intent on making sure his son had a fun, and normal night. It wasn't hard – everyone gave him ample amounts of attention and adoration and when he proudly showcased Justin's painting, everyone was, as expected, impressed and awed. As they also were when Brian took them around the house and grounds.

Many exclamations were made to the beauty and grandeur of the place and its sweeping views of dense forest and rolling hills. It really was paradise. Brian didn't mention its original intended purpose – that it was a home meant for Justin and him. Instead he simply let everyone believe it had been a recent purchase. It was easier that way – and meant fewer clandestine whispers and looks from his friends since they were already whispering and looking at him behind his back anyway.

The dinner itself was a success – no one mentioning those obviously missing; Melanie and Lindsay. Or Justin. But Brian could tell they were all missed. Gus was thrilled to share being the center of attention with JR. He greedily absorbed all the hugs and kisses and loving gestures that his "Granny Deb" shared with him while Brian watched them, silently hoping Lindsay would be well enough to move home, sooner rather than later because the little boy was obviously missing his mother's affections.

Really though, as the night wore on and the conversation turned to more and more mundane and banal 'grown-up' topics, Brian just wanted everyone to leave. His indulgence as host was wearing so thin he worried he might say something he'd come to regret just to get everyone out the door.

Mostly, what he wanted was to call Justin. Since seeing that painting the day before, he hadn't been able to get it out of his head and while party preparations and entertaining guests had been a good distraction thus far, he was over it now. He was horny, and lonely, and only wanted one thing.

Thankfully, as the hands of the clock neared 10pm, Michael and Ben declared it was time they took JR home and the party quickly broke up soon after. Emmett stayed a bit longer, overseeing the clean-up and packing his equipment and when Brian came back downstairs after getting Gus to bed, the house was immaculate and best of all, empty.

Checking the doors were locked and that no one had stayed behind, lingering, Brian happily retreated to his bedroom, locking his door just in case Gus decided to get up and wander. If Justin answered his phone and things went how Brian hoped, he didn't want his son to accidentally walk in on him.

Stripping his clothes, Brian shivered slightly. The house was large, and old, and drafty. It would never maintain a nice, even temperature like what Brian had kept at the loft, and it was with a tiny bit of annoyance that Brian crawled beneath his sheets instead of spreading out on top.

As soon as Brian had stripped of his clothes, he'd felt the blood rush to his cock and it stiffened slightly, pulses of pleasure coursing through him as he adjusted beneath the sheet. The soft cloth against his cock was extremely pleasurable and all the sexual frustration Brian had been holding in threatened to burst forth in that moment. It was all he could do to keep his hands off himself – the desire to just come, to feel that rush of pleasure followed by the endorphin-fueled natural high that would then send him spiraling down into sweet, relaxing sleep…

He wanted it bad – but he wanted a certain blond to help him in the endeavor even more. And so, cock throbbing and leaking, a wet spot forming where the tip pressed up against the soft sheet, Brian dialed Justin and waited anxiously, hoping this time the little twat would answer. And just when Brian thought his call would once more go to voicemail, the little twat did answer.

"Where the fuck have you been," Brian blurted before Justin even finished saying hello. He knew he had no right to act the way he was. Justin owed him no explanations, but still the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could reign them back in.

"Hello to you too," Justin replied somewhat coolly.

"Shit," Brian mumbled, running his free hand through his hair. This was not starting off well.

Shifting uncomfortably, Brian pushed aside the ache in his groin, his cock nearing the dangerous "blue balls" territory. God, he just wished Justin was in his bed, ready to help him resolve his 'little problem'. He wasn't averse to jacking off as it was all he'd been doing for the last month or so, but he was so fucking tired of it and really didn't want to put forth the effort for what would be an orgasm likely not even near mediocre. He wanted Justin's words and voice to take him over the edge. If he couldn't have his hands and his mouth he'd take the next best thing.

Brian squirmed some more on the soft, cool sheets causing gooseflesh to pop up when he brushed against the coolness of the bed – where his body heat hadn't warmed the surface beneath him. He couldn't get the damned blonde out of his head; Justin – and his mouth, and his ass, and his eyes, and his hands, and his mouth again, and those fucking delicious lips. It was no wonder his cock was rock hard and throbbing painfully. Still, he resisted touching himself. A part of him supposed this was some weird form of self-punishment.

"So," Brian started, trying to shake the irritable mood he was suddenly in – thanks to his raging hard-on and his cold, empty bed.

"Gus and I saw your painting," Brian said with a gentler tone to his voice.

"It's fucking amazing," he continued, when Justin didn't immediately respond. "I guess that's why you've been out of touch."

Justin remained silent and Brian immediately resented the neediness his words seemed to indicate – Christ, it wasn't like he was sitting around just waiting for Justin to call him back…

The silence from the other man did cause Brian to wonder if maybe Justin had finally had enough of all his shit. If maybe he was done being yanked around like a puppet on a string. And those thoughts only made Brian angrier at himself – and if he were honest, a little bit scared, too.

Suddenly there was a long exhale of breath and a sigh that sounded, well, Brian wasn't sure. And it was unsettling and therefore only added to his general unease and confusion.

"I was consumed," Justin finally spoke with a quiet laugh, "you do that to me sometimes. All the time, really."

"What's going on with us, Brian?" Justin's voice changed then, and Brian heard his silent plea beneath the loaded question. He was seeking affirmations and assurances and as much as Brian wanted to take away Justin's apparent uncertainty, he couldn't.

"I know we both decided I'd come to New York," Justin was quiet again but there was no mistaking the confusion and doubt in his voice, "and I know we both said we didn't want the other to change. But I just…"

"Just what," Brian whispered, his eyes closed and his cock painfully throbbing even as he knew what it was Justin was going to say.

"I didn't think you'd so easily revert back to old behaviors," his voice was a whisper, and apologetic. There was another heavy sigh. "I didn't think you'd call me on my fucking birthday to tell me I had to get tested for fucking HIV."

Brian was silent even though he knew Justin was expecting something from him; anything from him.

"Do you know how fucked up that was? How fucked up that is? How fucked up we are?"

He sounded angry now, and Brian knew what he needed to say. Hell, in a way he wanted to say it. The problem was swallowing his fucking pride and doing it. Selfishly, he couldn't help but think that maybe if he said it, Justin would be more inclined to participate in some hot phone sex and maybe they could find their way back to each other through the one language they so completely understood from one another.

Fuck. He was an asshole. And he didn't deserve any of the people in his life who loved him. And he most certainly did not deserve Justin.

"I know," he finally murmured. "I know and-," he paused to breath in deeply before forging ahead – saying it. "-and I'm sorry."

"I really am. Everything _is_ fucked up right now. Including me-," Brian continued, but as he realized the path he was headed down he quickly clenched his jaw and swallowed all his words. Justin didn't need Brian's concerns to add onto his own. Justin didn't need Brian's excuses or to carry any of his weight. Brian could shoulder it alone. He had to shoulder it alone. He deserved to shoulder it alone.

"I just wish-," Justin started, seeming not to hear Brian's near confession, but then he sighed and clammed up as well.

Brian wondered when it had become so hard for them to talk to each other. They had never been chatterboxes, but they'd always been able to say anything to the other. Now it seemed they were both being too guarded, too careful. Brian wasn't sure he liked that any better than when Justin rambled on about his feelings – trying to pry emotions from Brian, too.

What made it even funnier was it was so obvious they were both in situations they didn't want to be in, yet Brian refused to expose his vulnerability while also refusing to "let" Justin give up chasing his dream – even if it was what he said he wanted to do. Fucked up, indeed.

Brian closed his eyes and the two men were silent for several minutes. He could hear Justin's soft breaths and his entire body responded to the sound – his cock, if it were even possible, grew harder as he imagined the blonde's soft breaths against his neck and his chest and his lips. Suddenly the image of Justin's mouth, taking the full length of Brian, appeared in his head and a shock of painful pleasure coursed through his body. He hadn't gotten off, aside from jerking off to porn or with really, really bad cybersex, for over a month now and even if the two of them couldn't talk, there was one thing they could do that they were really good at – either in person, or by phone. It was ridiculous and unfair of Brian to do this to Justin now, but he could only hope the blonde was as sexually frustrated as he was. He hadn't been touched by another man in so long even imagining it now, with Justin on the phone, was nearly enough to make him come.

"Justin," Brian whispered, his voice husky. He hoped the blonde could hear his desire, unspoken.

The response was a soft, resigned sigh and Brian closed his eyes, moving his hand he gently squeezed his cock through the damp sheet. The wetness leaking from his tip had spread to form a circle on the sheet roughly five inches in diameter.

"Brian-," Justin started, his voice indicating his weariness but Brian cut him off before he could say any more, whispering a word he wasn't sure he'd ever said out loud in his life.

"Please," Brian didn't even attempt to mask the need; it was painful, how much he desired the younger man. It was painful how much he needed this moment with him; now. Inside he was crumbling, his life racing ahead of him faster than he knew how to keep up and the one thing that was constant, the one thing that could bring Brian back down to reality and give him a tether, a touchstone, was Justin.

Throwing the sheet off his body and letting the cold air add to the sensations coursing through him, Brian wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked it slowly.

"All I want is your mouth on me," he breathed into the phone, taking note of the slight catch and increased rate of Justin's breathing.

"Your warm, wet mouth sucking my rock-hard cock," Brian continued, his hand gripping at his cock almost painfully hard. He let his thumb slide over the tip, spreading the leaking wetness down and arching his back at the bolt of pleasure that shot through him.

"My tongue, working circles on your shaft as I take you fully in before letting you slide out oh so slow," Justin spoke, taking up the mantle now, breathless himself. Brian felt his resolve weakening, imagining the blonde twink lying spread eagle on his bed in New York, touching himself, milking his own dick.

"Near the tip I pause at your slit before slowly licking down the underside of your beautiful cock and biting gently at your balls," Justin's voice cooed, and Brian let his imagination take him there. He could almost feel the wet warmth of Justin's tongue on him. He could almost forget the feel of his own hand.

"Fuck you're so hot," Brian groaned, fondling his balls and stroking the sensitive patch of skin between his legs. His hips slowly rocked and his legs spread wider, almost without thought.

"I wish you were inside me," Justin gasped and Brian felt a jolt of momentary fear – would he ever allow himself to fuck Justin again should he happen to test positive? Could he possibly put the younger man in that position? Thinking back to when Michael and Ben first got together Brian suddenly realized why Ted had been so against them. Facing a potential situation similar to that – Brian didn't know if he could let Justin risk himself that way.

Shoving the thoughts from his mind, Brian turned his focus back to the words coming from Justin and his imagination as he closed his eyes and pictured Justin touching him. He reveled in the fantasy as they continued to talk dirty to each other until they both came.

"Almost as good as the real thing," Justin sighed breathlessly, after.

Brian simply snorted a laugh as they were both quiet for a few moments. Brian felt his breathing slow as his heart rate began to resume its normal rhythm.

"So you found my secret stash of memories," Justin said, then.

"What the fuck is that about?" Brian asked, rolling out of bed and heading into his private bath he cleaned himself off with a washcloth while he cradled the phone.

"Memories," Justin repeated and Brian rolled his eyes.

"I never really took you for a sentimental queer," Brian moved back into the bedroom and flopped down on his bed, moving to the side that was not still damp with his sweat. He'd have to wash his sheets tomorrow – or rather, leave them out for Grace, the new housekeeper, to launder.

Justin just laughed and Brian wondered what that meant. He did of course consider Justin an extremely sentimental queer. He always had been – and always would be. Brian had hoped, with his statement, to get the other man talking. He didn't really want to ask him any direct questions because he was afraid of what he would ask. So many things had been on his mind the last many weeks. Their entire relationship and all its ups and downs – it was affecting Brian's entire philosophy on life…

"I'd forgotten about it, to be honest," Justin said then.

"So you liked the painting?" Justin asked when Brian didn't respond.

Lighting a cigarette and taking a deep drag, Brian exhaled before answering. He briefly debated playing his "role", but then decided he was just too damn tired for it and so for one of a few rare times in his life he was honest – without his typical arrogant attitude.

"It's amazing. You should have seen Gus, staring at it."

Justin offered a tiny laugh and Brian pictured him, hair slightly mussed, eyes drowsy with exhaustion, a smile on his face.

"He asked if you could teach him to paint," Brian added, "he was disappointed when I told him you lived too far away."

"A little artist in the making," Justin whispered, and Brian thought he detected a note of sadness in his tone.

"Babylon is reopening in a few weeks," Brian blurted, changing the subject before they both became too maudlin.

"Do you think you can make it back?" he asked, taking another deep drag off the cigarette and trying not to hang all his hopes on potentially seeing Justin soon…

"Probably," he replied slowly, uncertainty obvious in his voice.

"If it's a matter of money I can get you a pass on Liberty Air," Brian snubbed out the half smoked cigarette, "one of the perks of successfully marketing them into one of the top bargain airlines on the East Coast."

"Yeah," Justin said and there was no mistaking the now hopeful tone in his voice, causing Brian a slight heart palpitation, "I'd like that."

* * *

The following Monday marked Brian's official return to normalcy. He took Gus in to Pittsburgh, dropping him at Deb's for the day while he went to work. Thankfully, the surrogate mother and grandmother to the two Kinney boys had taken the week off of work from the diner – specifically, she told Brian in a hushed tone as she and Carl left the dinner party the previous Friday night – so that she could watch Gus as Brian settled in to his new life.

The few days Brian and Gus had spent together at the loft had been to acclimate the little boy to being in yet another new place. He didn't exhibit as much separation anxiety as he had in Toronto, but Brian wasn't about to return to work the moment he'd landed back in PA and leave Gus to figure out the new surroundings alone. He probably remembered the loft, but he probably also remembered the loft with his mothers there.

At any rate – Brian was thankful for Deb's offer, and the time it gave him to find a live-in nanny for the summer months.

Returning to Kinnetik was another milestone – his employees appeared excited and anxious about his return, and Brian wondered if everyone's performance had been up to snuff while he'd been out. He had no doubts about Cynthia and Ted's abilities to keep things running, but neither of them had Brian's instincts and so as he sat at his desk, going through his stack of mail, both snail and electronic, he also had them both before him rattling off details and deadlines and status updates for their active accounts. It sounded, from their reports, as though everything were in good standing, and so with a brief nod he dismissed them and turned to his computer to address the most critical communications waiting there for him. Namely, Brown Athletics wanted an in-person meeting with Brian to discuss the recent public response to their new campaign (it wasn't that good), and Brown Sutton wanted to fly to Pittsburgh with Darcy and Sam in tow to look at models and to discuss the preliminary ideas that Brian had left them with when he had left Toronto.

Picking up his phone, Brian made the first of two calls, and by the end of the hour had two different meetings scheduled for the following week; all travel expenses on Kinnetik's dime, of course.

Brian left the office in the early afternoon, picking Gus up from Deb's and then heading to the hospital rehab center where Lindsay had been a resident now for not quite a week.

They'd been visiting her every day, except the day of the dinner party, and Brian had noticed a slight improvement in Lindsay's mood each subsequent day. She seemed to be settling back into being in Pittsburgh, and the frequent visits from their group of friends seemed to also be helping her. She still wouldn't talk much about Melanie, or her feelings about the accident – at least not with Brian. He was certain she was in some sort of therapy and the thought reminded him that he really needed to see about getting Gus into talk to someone as well. The little boy seemed okay most of the time, but then would have strange outbursts of emotion that were wholly out of proportion to the incident that would elicit them. Granted, he was also a little kid, but even Brian knew that his behavior was more out of character than in.

After the usual pleasantries had been exchanged, and Brian had received an update on Lindsay's condition and progress (there wasn't much – still no sensation beyond tingling pin-pricks that ended just at the knees), the two adults turned their attentions to the needs of their son. Gus, bored with adult chit-chat, took up the same pastime that he'd employed on their visits in Toronto, and settled in a chair with a coloring book.

"How is he?" Lindsay watched Gus with a gentle smile, before turning her attention back to Brian. "How is he really?"

"He's mostly okay," Brian shrugged. "I think."

"I do think he needs to see someone," Brian added, Lindsay's reaction not lost on him. Her eyes widened slightly and she bit at her lower lip.

"So he's not okay," she whispered.

"I don't know Linds," Brian sighed, "but it couldn't hurt. He seems to be fine most of the time but then something will happen and he'll freak out, or clam up, or burst into tears. After all he's been through the last five months with moving, and the accident, and moving again. I wouldn't be surprised if he weren't slightly fucked up."

Lindsay nodded, her brown eyes fixed on Gus. Brian watched her watching their son and he saw such unhindered adoration but beneath that he saw guilt. He was certain. Brian knew what guilt looked like, and it didn't belong to Lindsay.

"Stop," Brian reached out and gently grasped her chin to force her to look at him, "it's not your fault. So stop."

With a weak smile, Lindsay just nodded slightly.

The rest of the visit was spent in idle chit-chat, aside from Lindsay asking Brian to see about getting Gus into some sort of preschool for the summer – what was left of it. She warned him that he'd probably have to be the one to visit and register Gus for Kindergarten as well – seeing as Lindsay wasn't expected to be discharged from the rehab center for probably another month at least.

Brian added that to the long list of other things he had to do – find the kid a therapist, and a nanny, and now a preschool if possible, and an elementary school. He wasn't sure, living out where they did, what that would mean for schools for Gus but Brian just filed it away – choosing to focus on one issue at a time and the most time sensitive issue on the list was getting a nanny.

Brian had quickly found a local housekeeping service, a local woman named Grace had a small crew that cleaned houses in the neighborhood. He hired them to come four times a week. At the same time he found them he also found a gardener who would come three times a week to take care of the mowing and the pruning and the weeding and the raking. Because of this, he expected to find someone quickly who would gladly snatch up the position of nanny. But Brian neglected to take into account the distance of the house from the city, and its – in general – remote location. Finally though, after conducting two days of interviews he'd found a young Master's Candidate who needed a summer gig while she worked on her thesis in preparation for graduation the following fall. Her name was Gina Rice and she was studying elementary education – which Brian thought a fortuitous coincidence. She was petite in frame, but boisterous in voice, reminding him of Debbie in many ways. She had thick, dark red hair and piercing blue eyes that rivaled Justin's. A tiny smattering of freckles colored her nose and cheeks and Brian couldn't help but feel an immediate Irish kinship with her. With coloring like that, she couldn't be anything else.

At the start of the interview, he'd sensed some gentle flirtation on her part and so to nip that potential problem in the bud, Brian immediately told her about the living situation – how he and Lindsay and Gus fit together as a family. To her credit, she didn't act much surprised, and Brian was relieved. Several other interviews he'd conducted had ended quite shortly after a few of the prospective candidates had learned of Brian's sexuality and had reacted…well…badly.

Gina didn't seem to mind so much, and Brian was briefly reminded of another young woman he knew who had always seemed to take an intense interest in Brian's life – because it involved her best friend. Brian allowed himself to wonder for a moment how Daphne was faring with Justin in New York…

Part of the package for the nanny position included a small apartment above the garage, and though Gina had her own car (a Honda! Brian balked), Brian insisted that she use the Mercedes sedan when she had to take Gus anywhere. Brian still had his 'vette, and he intended to use it over the summer. He then laid out the rest of the guidelines for the job – namely that it wouldn't be regular hours. He warned her that he may sometimes work late into the night, and that until he arrived home she was on the clock to watch Gus. He told her he wasn't averse to giving her time off and all her weekends would be her own, but if she needed other time off she needed to give him at least a few weeks heads up.

To her credit, Gina was unphased by the 'rules' and that impressed Brian. She seemed confident and strong-willed, which Brian also liked and so he offered the job to her, contingent of course upon Gus's final approval. She agreed to come to the house the following evening to meet Gus.

* * *

The following evening, when Gina pulled up in her decade-old Honda, Brian was ready and waiting at the front door of the house, Gus at his side.

The young woman, fiery red hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, offered them both a wide grin before she dropped to a crouch in front of Gus and offered out her hand.

"Hi. My name's Gina," she said warmly.

"I'm Gus," the little boy said, his tiny hand disappearing into Gina's. Brian suppressed a laugh.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Gus," Gina let go of his hand and reaching into her satchel, her eyes flicked up to Brian's for a moment before she looked back at Gus, "I have a present for you. Your dad told me you like to draw and color and so…"

Brian watched as she slowly pulled out three items; a set of Prismacolor colored pencils, a set of Prismacolor pastels, and set of Prismacolor charcoals. Brian, who wouldn't know the different between Prismacolor and Crayola if not for Justin, raised his eyebrows in surprise. They weren't the most expensive brand but they were also not cheap – not for a kid who wasn't even five years old yet.

Gus seemed to share Brian's surprise, though not because he had any knowledge of brand name art supplies, but because aside from his giant box of crayons Gus had never had colored pencils or pastels or charcoals. Brian doubted he'd ever even seen them before. The little boy stared wide-eyed at the offered gifts before looking up at Brian as if asking if it was okay. Brian smiled and nodded and that seemed to be all the confirmation Gus needed.

"Wow," he whispered, grasping the supplies and offering a grin that was a rare sight since the car accident.

"What else do you say?" Brian blurted, rolling his eyes at himself at the use of the cliché.

"Thank you," Gus said looking from Gina back up to Brian, "Can I go color a picture for mommy?"

Gina stood then, her blue eyes meeting Brian's as they both shared a moment of amusement.

"After dinner," Brian reached down and took the three items from Gus, "why don't you take Gina out to the back while I get the steaks."

Gus hopped a few times on his toes before reaching out and grasping Gina's hand, pulling her through the house and rattling on about Brian didn't even know what.

Gina moved into the apartment above the garage two days later.

* * *

The following Monday Brian got an anxious call from Lindsay. She had just been visited by her parents – the first time since she'd been back in Pittsburgh. Brian never asked and Lindsay never told him but apparently she had held off on letting them know she was back. When she had called them, that morning, they had rushed over to see her and had been shocked and angry that she hadn't told them sooner of her injuries. They were also concerned about the fact that she was living in a physical therapy and rehabilitation center while her son, their grandson, was with his father.

As Lindsay relayed the conversation that ensued after that, she grew more and more upset. As she told it to Brian, her parents were concerned with Gus being around Brian and his "lifestyle". They didn't seem to care that Brian had moved them to a nice house outside the city, or that Gus was well taken care of, or that Brian hadn't gone out or brought any tricks home since the night he'd arrived in Toronto. Brian, though he did go out one night in Toronto, let Lindsay believe that he had been 100% available the entire time. In any case, the trio had fought, then, as much as their waspish tendencies would allow them. Finally, Lindsay's mother had threatened to take legal action and bring Gus into their home. That was when Lindsay had kicked them out of her room, and called Brian.

Nothing Brian could say could calm her, and until he promised to investigate the legal avenues her parents had at their disposal would she calm down. She also, tearfully Brian could hear, begged him to look into what he could or needed to do to reclaim his parental rights. She was desperate that her parents have no claim to take Gus from Brian. He wasn't too worried, but a tiny icicle of fear seemed to stab at his heart and cause him distress. He wasn't about to let anyone take Gus from him.

Needless to say, the distraction of yet another tiny crisis was not what Brian needed to start out another workweek. Still – after hanging up with Lindsay he contacted his lawyer and set him to task. Putting it out of his mind once his legal team was on it, Brian set to work on Kinnetik business, trying to regain some of the order that had been lost in his absence.

* * *

When Brian was at the hospital in Toronto, and the hospital administrator talked to Brian about what his powers and rights were to make decisions about Lindsay's care and also to see to Melanie's body, Brian hadn't questioned it or even looked any further into what it all meant. He'd been told what he could do, and so he'd done it. That was the last he thought of it, and the last he'd heard about it.

Because of that, he was surprised to arrive at Kinnetik the next morning to find a young man in a suit with a thick manila envelope addressed to Brian. The young man didn't explain anything as he placed the envelope into Brian's hands and walked out the door. It wasn't even five minutes later – Brian had just taken off his jacket and settled at his desk – when his cell phone rang.

Lindsay had apparently received a similar packet about an hour earlier, and as she explained to Brain, after reading it over, then reading it a second time, and then reading it once more, she was now calling Brian because he needed to come to her; now.

So – just as soon as he'd settled in he was off again, yelling instructions over his shoulder at Cynthia as he strode out the door.

At the hospital, Brian met Lindsay not in her room, but in the cafeteria. The nurse who had wheeled her in hovered nearby, but left them alone to talk.

"Did you look at it yet?" Lindsay asked, nodding towards the thick envelope that she'd told Brian to bring with him.

"No, it was literally placed in my hands five minutes before you called."

"Open it," she responded.

Brian couldn't read her expression. She seemed excited, yet scared; on the verge of tears, yet also moments away from screaming for joy.

But, Brian did as she requested, and opening the envelope he quickly skimmed the documents before raising his eyes to Lindsay.

This time when he looked at her she was grinning and crying at the same time.

"I wasn't sure how to start the process but now," Lindsay grinned wider, which Brian thought impossible as she was already smiling as wide as he'd ever seen her, "is it really that simple?"

"It must be," Brian replied, smiling back. He wondered if the call yesterday to his lawyer had prompted this turn of events, and he made a note to call him as soon as he left the hospital.

"Why aren't you more excited?" Lindsay's grin faltered as she narrowed her eyes at him.

"I am," Brian, who was still trying to wrap his head around everything contained in the documents. It seemed too easy; too good to be true.

"I'm just," Brian searched his head for the right word, "I'm just surprised."

"She loved Gus," Lindsay said softly, and Brian saw tears of a different nature start to fall from her eyes. "She loved us both. And I think she loved you, too. In a strange sort of way."

Brian laughed. Melanie? Love him? Somehow he doubted that, but he wasn't going to burst Lindsay's bubble so he said nothing in response.

Brian stared down at the stack of papers that lay before him. Among them, a copy of Melanie's will as well as additional paperwork that would, in essence, return all of Brian's parental rights back to him. He didn't understand all the legalese, but what he did understand was that Gus would legally be his again. All he had to do was sign the papers included in the packet, and have his lawyers file it.

That was it. It seemed so anticlimactic after all the emotions initially signing those papers had stirred within him. After all the time it had taken him to get over the loss of something he'd never wanted to begin with but had quickly learned he'd enjoyed having – even if it was brief.

Though he hadn't been Gus's legal parent for almost four years, he had always been Gus's dad, and that feeling had never left him, whether it was legal or not. The fact that he had no legal claim or right to his son never played too much of a role in his life since he'd signed those papers – except when Lindsay and Melanie had announced they wanted to move to Canada.

He supposed that was why he was feeling so oddly now. All the things he'd thought he'd lost when he'd signed those papers and let his son be taken to another country, were now being returned to him. He had Gus and Lindsay back in Pittsburgh, and soon he would be legally responsible for his son once again.

And it was because Melanie was dead. That was the only reason.

How could he really be happy? At the expense of Lindsay and Gus's grief? It was bittersweet.

Brian offered a gentle smile before pulling a pen out of his briefcase and with not a moment's hesitation he signed where indicated – only wondering after the fact if he shouldn't have had his lawyer check it first. But it was a fleeting thought, because there was no way there could be anything but good in the paperwork. Melanie wouldn't do that.

"Done," Brian slipped his pen back in his case, and then with a true grin Brian moved out to crouch down at Lindsay's side before gently kissing her on the cheek.

That afternoon Brian met with his lawyer and after a brief consultation – the man took the papers and filed them. It was done. Gus was his again.

* * *

Over the course of the week, Brian met several times with the contractors and was repeatedly assured that Babylon would be ready for the Grand Reopening he wanted to have in mid-June. Things had progressed fairly rapidly before Brian had left town, and there wasn't much left to do – just some finishing touches to the décor, and to hire a full staff to fill those spots that had been vacated after the bombing. Most of the employees wanted to come back – but a few didn't. Brian understood – but that meant more time for him to find replacements.

The time it would take to interview for the open positions he wanted to fill was not time he was inclined to take. After a few nights debating the pros and cons of taking a step back from the club, Brian decided that at least until Lindsay was discharged from the rehab center and living at home, he should keep his focus on Gus, and Kinnetik. Babylon, as much of a toy as it was for him, was far down his list of priorities.

So, when Brian called Ted into his office at Kinnetik and directly asked him if he would assume some of the day to day operational decisions for the club, the other man had been, appropriately, surprised.

"I need someone I can trust, and that list is short," Brian reclined in his chair while Ted stood before him, slightly slack-jawed.

"I'm honored you think I can do it," he responded.

"It's only temporary. Just until Lindsay comes home. And Alanzo is still in charge of managing the place. Your job will be to help him whenever he needs it. If an emergency arises, if there's a problem with a vendor, or security, or publicity, and so on."

Ted had been nodding his head as Brian had been speaking.

"No problem," Ted grinned, "I can handle it."

"Good. First thing I want you to do is go down there and help him round out the staff. You know what I want. Hot, sexy, and young."

"Got it, got it," Ted nodded.

"Well? Go!" Brian barked and Ted offered a laugh before turning on his heels and moving from Brian's office.

That was one less thing he had to worry about now, and surprisingly, he felt completely at ease with letting Ted take care of club business.

He considered if this was yet another sign that he was "growing up".

* * *

As the week wore on, Brian prepared for his two big meetings with Brown Athletics and Sutton Brewery. The meetings would serve to both reassure his older client, Brown Athletics, that things were back on track, and give his new client, Sutton Brewery, an exciting glimpse into the new campaign ideas that Brian and his team had come up with – with some help from Sam.

The Brown Athletics meeting went better than Brian expected. Leo Brown's concerns weren't as severe as he'd led Brian to believe, and so the in person recommitment to the brand had gone a long way towards assuaging his nervousness. Mr. Brown had departed their afternoon meeting throwing praise at everyone at Kinnetik and excited to expand his brand even further.

The morning after the Brown Athletics meeting, Brian met with Brown Sutton, Darcy, and Sam. They all had been very pleased with the models chosen for the new ads – and Mr. Sutton had been very pleased with the artwork – agreeing that focusing on the active segment of the population would be wise, since the name of the new brew was White Water Pale Ale. They had a successful brainstorming session, and Brian was left with a few new ideas and tweaks to consider before their next meeting in a few weeks.

Brown and Darcy left Pittsburgh right after the meeting – something about a tasting they had to get back to Toronto for – but what caught Brian slightly off guard was Brown requesting that Sam stay in Pittsburgh for a few weeks, at least, to oversee the rest of the campaign design. Brian, not used to being watch dogged, tried not to be offended by the insinuation that he couldn't handle the campaign development on his own but still he agreed to give Sam some temporary space to work at the Kinnetik offices.

After Brown and Darcy had departed, Brian leveled a sardonic look at Sam.

"This is bullshit," he sighed. "I certainly don't need my hand held."

Sam offered a slight smile, but it didn't touch his eyes and Brian thought for just a moment that he seemed not quite his usual self – at least for as well as Brian could claim to know the man.

"It was my idea," Sam said then, causing Brian's brow to rise slightly in silent question.

"I had to get out of Toronto," Sam answered without further explanation.

Brian simply nodded, examining the man before him. He didn't want another friend. He didn't need another friend. Yet there was something about this man, something in his demeanor and in his attitude that appealed to Brian. Not necessarily sexually because, even though he couldn't remember, he'd been there and done that and besides, the man was positive. No way would Brian risk that when he had Justin to consider. Still…he couldn't deny there was some kind of connection between them. He made Brian feel at ease; and he didn't judge. Sam didn't know Brian, or his past, or anything about his life in Pittsburgh. Maybe that was the appeal. Brian could be whoever he wanted with Sam because Sam didn't expect him to be anything.

"Let's go get some lunch," Brian stood suddenly from his desk. Sam followed suit, rising from the chair he was seated in and moving it back to the small, round table that filled the space to the immediate right of the door leading out of Brian's office.

The Liberty Diner was bustling, but Brian and Sam had beat the usual lunch crowd, just barely, and had snagged a booth at the rear of the diner. Sam had immediately recognized the similarities between Rosie's in Toronto and The Liberty Diner, while also taking note of the differences. Brian advised Sam on what was safe to order and what was not ("Never order the fish!" He'd warned), and they engaged in idle chit chat while they waited for a server to come over to them. Sam asked Brian a little about the scene in Pittsburgh, and Brian filled him in on Woody's and the other clubs on the street before inviting him to the Babylon grand reopening, since he'd be in town anyway.

Sam hadn't heard about the bombing, which Brian found shocking and interesting, so when Sam asked why the club was reopening and Brian told him the story the other man was appropriately shaken and dismayed. He then promised he'd be there even if he wasn't looking for anyone at the moment, if for no other reason than to support the gay community and to show those who would try to keep them down that they wouldn't succeed. Brian appreciated the gesture, and was about to ask Sam about his status when they were interrupted.

"And who is this?" the voice that interrupted their casual conversation was all too familiar and Brian cringed inwardly. He knew the chances of Deb working the lunch shift were good, but Brian had also hoped he wouldn't have to explain Sam to everyone. Though really, if he didn't want to explain him he probably shouldn't have brought him to The Liberty Diner in the first place.

Brian smiled sardonically at Sam before looking up at Deb. She was standing, empty tray resting partially on her shoulder, her free hand planted on her hip. She snapped her gum expectantly and Brian read clearly in her expression a deep disappointment. He sighed. He would never live down his past with these people – and maybe rightly so – but still the fact that she would think he would flaunt someone that wasn't Justin…well Brian was very nearly offended. If not for the thought of being offended, offending him.

"Deb," Brian drawled out her name, his voice dripping with condescension and sweetness, "this is Sam Fairfield, he's a client."

Brian watched as almost imperceptively Debbie's expression cleared and with a snap of her gum she turned to Sam and grinned.

"Well," her eyes flashed devilishly, "aren't you distinguished. A bit too distinguished for this dump."

She let out one of her full-throated laughs then, and when Sam gave Brian a slightly confused look, Brian just shook his head and shrugged.

"And I hope all you are is a client," turning to Brian then she reached out and slapped his cheek, a bit too hard to be one of her typical motherly love taps. "I know how you've behaved with clients in the past."

Then she was gone, drawn away by the bell from the kitchen likely to deliver some hungry queen his pink plate special.

If Brian had been with any other of his clients, other than Sam, he would have been horrified. No, scratch that because if he had been with any of his other clients he would not have brought them to the Liberty Diner in the first place. Why he thought it was appropriate with Sam he wasn't sure. It wasn't just because the man was gay, and it wasn't just because they shared this "secret" between them…was it?

"That's Deb," Brian cocked his eyebrow, deciding not to try and figure out what his motive might have been and to just enjoy lunch.

"She seems," Sam paused, obviously searching for the right word that wouldn't offend Brian.

"Crazy. But we love her," Brian said, finishing Sam's thought.

"My best friend's mother," Brian continued, unsure why he felt the need to explain. "She's, unfortunately, known me since I was a teenager."

Sam smiled and nodded knowingly.

The bell above the door jangled then and out of habit Brian looked up to see who had come in. He nearly groaned out loud when he saw Ted, Blake, and Emmett.

"Shit," Brian whispered under his breath. He heard Sam start to ask him what was wrong when Emmett spotted him and waved enthusiastically, skipping across the diner and moving to fall into the booth next to Brian. When he caught sight of Sam though, Emmett paused, half falling into the booth and half holding himself up by his tight grip on the tabletop.

With a nervous laugh, Emmett collected himself and dropped into the booth, nudging Brian gently with his shoulder and forcing him to move over.

"Who is this?" Emmett cooed and batted his eyelashes.

"Sam Fairfield," Sam held out his hand and Brian suppressed a laugh as Emmett reached out a limp wrist and tenderly grasped the proffered hand.

"Emmett Honeycutt," he practically swooned, his southern accent thick and drawling, "pleasure."

Ted and Blake, who had taken their time crossing over, arrived at the booth just as Emmett and Sam shook hands.

"Theodore," Brian smiled tightly at his CFO. "Who's minding the store?"

"Relax Bri," Ted smiled causally, "Cynthia's working through her lunch. She's there."

"She better fucking be," Brian growled, tempted to pull out his phone and check up on her.

All the recent client unrest had Brian on edge. In addition to Brown Athletics, a few of his other big name clients had expressed some dissatisfaction with the quality of the work Kinnetik was putting out the last few months. Brian knew it was because of his absence and distraction of the accident and Lindsay and Gus and so he was demanding even more from his employees now that he was back. Part of that demand was making sure everyone was doing due diligence with their assignments. As such Brian, who typically didn't micromanage to this extreme, had ordered that if he wasn't at the office that Cynthia or Ted had to be.

"Sam, this is my partner Blake," Ted smiled to the other man and Brian watched as Sam and Blake shook hands. He could still see Emmett, out of the corner of his eye, grinning madly as his eyes devoured the handsome face of slightly older man.

"Pleasure," Sam made to move over and apparently make some room for the duo to sit but Brian held up his hands, causing everyone to pause and look at him expectantly.

"No," he said. "We're working. Sit elsewhere."

Brian heard Emmett sigh beside him before he slowly slid out of the booth.

"I do hope I'll see you again," the flamboyant man grinned at Sam, and Brian resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Yeah, that'd be great," Sam replied. With a wave of his hand, Emmett led Ted and Blake over to a recently vacated booth nearer the door of the diner.

"Your friend Emmett is-," Sam smiled at Brian before casting a glance over his shoulder to watch the trio for a moment.

"A nelly-bottom," Brian finished, turning his attention to ordering lunch as Betty came over to finally take their order.

* * *

Sam hadn't asked, and Brian hadn't offered. They both knew it was close to the one month test for Brian. The first test he'd have since Sam had revealed his Positive result. For Brian, that made the event increasingly important and he counted down the days. He wasn't really aware that he was doing it, but somehow he knew exactly when, on May 15, he was due for that next test.

Heading to the hospital on his lunch hour, Brian was in and out in less than twenty minutes. The nurse at Alleghany General had not been as quick or efficient as the one at Toronto General, but still it was quick enough not to rouse suspicion from his coworkers.

With the looming knowledge of Sam's positive status, Brian was increasingly irritable and anxious in the days he had to wait for the results to come back. His friends commented on his snowballing attitude, and even Gus mentioned that he acted "mad all the time".

The thing was he was mad; at himself. Since the accident Brian had been forced – in more ways than one – to acknowledge his mortality and his vulnerabilities. He'd been forced to leave the last vestiges of his playboy lifestyle behind him as he assumed the role of primary parent to his son. He'd allowed Justin back into his life only to make him leave again. Now he couldn't turn off his emotions. He couldn't compartmentalize them because he simply was feeling more emotions than he had compartments to safely store them.

He briefly considered calling Sam; Brian truly thought him the only safe place he had at the moment. He was the only one who truly knew what Brian might be feeling. But he didn't call him. As selfish as Brain knowingly was – he couldn't do that to the man who was still trying to deal with his own HIV status. So Brian suffered the long days alone – taking out his frustrations on his staff and making a concerted effort to mask his son from his growing self-rage.

The call finally came late in the afternoon of the fifth day and Brian almost didn't answer. He was in the midst of yet another crisis with a fairly new client – a high end lingerie boutique that was actually calling Kinnetik's campaign ideas too conservative – which Brian found just a little bit insulting. So, as it was he was staring at half-naked women in lace bras and panties, trying to figure out how he could make the campaign more sexual without turning it into pornography and it pissed him off. He'd never received criticism that he wasn't being sexy enough in his pitches, and it was making him question his relevance.

Therefore the only reason he answered his phone was because if he stared at the images in front of him (not even men, dammit!) for one minute longer he was afraid he'd start throwing shit across his office.

So he answered, and everything changed. It was magical what that one word did to his mood.

Negative.

Brian forgot about the lingerie, forgot about the stress of everything in his life and basked in the sense of relief he felt from that one, little word. He barely heard the nurse explaining that he needed another test at three months and six months. He already knew that, so he grunted affirmations absently, then hung up the phone and reveled in the good news.

Then, despite angry protestations from Cynthia, Brian took the rest of the day off. He wanted to spend the rest of the afternoon with his son. Fuck women's lingerie. But first, he sent a text message to Justin. It was just the one word. It was all he needed to say.

A few days later Brian turned 34 years-old. Because of the stress of the HIV test, he hadn't had time to angst over his birthday and turning another year older. In all honesty, he'd mostly forgotten about it, aside from getting birthday calls and texts from his friends all day.

Arriving home from work that evening Brian was surprised to find two wrapped packages on the dining room table – one obviously from Gus but the other…

Seizing the opportunity of being alone Brian opened the card attached to the other package and felt a smile spread across his face.

There was only one word, written in delicate cursive. Yet it was all he didn't know he'd wanted.

_Negative._

That was all it said, and Brian felt any of the residual worry he'd been feeling fall away. Justin was safe, still, and at this point the odds were now in their favor that they'd continue to test negative. They were very nearly out of the woods and nothing made Brian happier.

Smiling stupidly, Brian pulled the ornately wrapped package towards him, noting the heaviness of the box. The package appeared to be wrapped but upon closer inspection Brain saw it was really just a box with a removable lid. Pulling off the lid Brian peered inside and let out a soft chuckle.

The box contained another card – this one a gaudy birthday greeting which had Brian cringing and promising himself that he'd make the little twat pay – and a bottle of Chivas Regal 25yr aged Scotch Whisky. Brian's mouth watered as he stroked the bottle, a part of him wondering how Justin managed to afford the fairly high-end whisky. He didn't have time to ponder too much, however, as the whirlwind of energy known as Gus blasted into the dining room screeching happy birthday and practically jumping out of his skin to see Brian open his gift, a grinning Gina following close behind him.

* * *

"_I will face what is to come_

_I will face what is to come"_

_-The Only Way Is Up, The Kinky Boys_


	12. He's All I Want

**A/N: I want to thank those of you leaving me such wonderful comments and reviews! I really appreciate it. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. :)**

* * *

The drawing was framed and propped up on Brian's desk at Kinnetik, next to a picture of Lindsay and Gus grinning and stuffing ice cream cones into their mouths. The photo had been taken two weeks before the accident. Lindsay, who had always been really good about sending Brian pictures and the occasional home movie of the kids, had mailed it soon after. Brian had only had it up on his desk for a few days before the accident had him in Toronto. Still it all seemed like a lifetime ago.

The drawing was Gus's birthday present to Brian. He'd obviously used the new pencils and pastels and charcoals that Gina had given him. The drawing featured the little boy's rendition of the house, with Brian and Gus standing in front of it and smiling.

Gus had been extremely anxious to see Brian's reaction when he'd opened the gift and Brian, not one to play into a child's (or anyone's, really) expectations, found he didn't have to pretend at all as he felt an overwhelming surge of both sadness and joy at the gift. It was the first drawing Gus had done for him; specifically for him. Lindsay, as with the pictures and the home movies, had occasionally sent Brian one of Gus's drawings, but never – as far as Brian knew – had Gus drawn a picture that was just for his dad. Thus, Brian was unexpectedly moved by it.

Surprising even himself, he arrived at work the following Monday with the framed drawing and set it up on his desk. It was a good reminder of what he was working and living for – of the sacred responsibility he held to take care of Gus.

For the first time since Melanie's death – the thought of his future as a full-time father did not send him into a panic. Brian thought it might be a respite, that once the novelty of this new relationship he was forming with Gus wore off, he'd feel the weight of the responsibility pull him down once again. The call of Liberty Avenue and the familiar comfort of a random fuck would beckon him again – and probably soon – or as soon as he was safe to resume his…controversial lifestyle.

A cheetah can't change its spots, or so they say; and a playboy will always play. At least that was how Brian thought.

Gina took off for a Memorial Day weekend camping trip early on that Friday, leaving Brian and Gus with three full days together. Brian, reluctantly, counted Memorial Day as one of a few holidays he gave his employees. If he had his choice, though, he'd work everyone seven days a week. Still – he even took the time off himself, spending it with his son, and with Lindsay when they could.

On the Monday holiday the rehab center hosted a family barbeque for those patients mobile enough to go down to the grassy courtyard where a large grill was set up, producing seemingly endless amounts of hamburgers and hot dogs. Gus enjoyed himself – spending much of the day running around with several other children also visiting various grandparents, parents, or siblings.

Brian and Lindsay watched him, occasionally speaking but mostly enjoying the warmth of the day and the carefree spirit of the little boy they had created, unconventionally, together.

As day wore into late afternoon and then into evening Brian had to pry Gus away from his gang of new friends. Gus was cranky about leaving, even refusing to hug Lindsay at first. But once they got home and Brian said he could watch a movie, he was happy once again.

Then it happened. The meltdown to end all meltdowns.

Brian could have attributed it to exhaustion or too much sun or an extreme sugar low and while most of those things likely added to the evenings hysterics, Brian also knew there was a hell of a lot more going on with the kid than he'd really even realized. He knew he could no longer put off getting his kid some professional help.

They got back to the house fairly late. Not late enough that Brian put Gus to bed right away, but not early enough that Gus could watch an entire movie – which was what he wanted to do. The moment they walked in the door, he was begging Brian to put on Finding Nemo.

Brian, acquiescing but with the warning that Gus wouldn't be able to watch it all, tucked him under a light blanket and propped him on the couch in the TV room. Brian's office was just adjacent, so he kept the doors open and prepped some campaign materials for a new account. He had a brainstorming meeting with his team first thing in the morning. Still, as he worked he could hear the giggles of his son as the same jokes cracked him up, over and over.

Brian had gotten used to blocking out the sound of the movie, conveniently choosing to ignore the strange fact that it was the only one Gus ever wanted to watch. If it wasn't Saturday morning cartoons on the television, it was Nemo.

Brian kept one eye on the clock as he worked, and when an hour had passed and the chimes struck nine he stood and entered the other room, turning off the tv before facing Gus.

"Time for bed," he said calmly but noticing the bright almost wild look in his son's eyes. While the look gave him pause, he shrugged it off and leaning down he started to pull away the blanket when suddenly Gus opened his mouth and let out a piercing, blood-curdling scream.

"Noooooooo!"

Brian instinctively stepped back, shocked and speechless as he watched Gus's tiny features, miniature versions of his own, screw up tightly before the little boy let out another wail that chilled Brian to the core.

"He…he…he…," Gus was sobbing, barely able to breath as he tried to speak.

Brian remained frozen in place, not quite sure what the hell was happening. Gus had had plenty of meltdowns in the last couple months but this was brand new and terrifying. And Brian didn't like terrifying.

"Gus," he stepped forward then, reaching out but quickly pulling back as the little boy cowered on the sofa and buried his face in his small hands.

"No!" he cried, over and over, gasping breaths between cries that sounded like they were tearing his tiny larynx to shreds.

"He….he has to…to…to find…to find Nemo!" he finally spat out, raising his face to look at Brian.

"Gus," Brian spoke calmly, crouching down so he was eye level with his son. Gus was a mess – his face bright red and streaked with tears as twin lines of snot ran from his nose.

"He has…he has to," Gus repeated and Brian felt his heart shatter over, and over, and over. He had never felt such visceral fear and pain before. It ranked among the most painful feelings he could remember and he hoped he wouldn't ever feel it again.

"He does, remember?" Brian soothed, working very hard to keep his voice calm and low. "You've seen this before. Merlin finds Nemo in the end and they live happily ever after."

Gus, sobbing beginning to abate but transitioning into uncontrolled hiccups, continued to leak fat tears from his eyes as he shook his head.

"But he hasn't found him yet!"

His eyes were colored with a desperate pain and fear that Brian had either chosen to ignore, or that he'd never bothered to look for prior to now. That was when it hit him, and he wondered why he had been so stupidly blind in the first place. Gus's obsession with Finding Nemo wasn't arbitrary. It wasn't random. It was specific. The movie was the story of a father and son.

A father and son.

Brian knew in that exact moment he could not put off the hunt for a therapist any longer. He realized Gus was channeling every single emotion he had been feeling regarding what had happened in the last two months into the images and the characters he was seeing on the screen in front of him. Nothing short of seeing it through to the end would satisfy him, or ease his pain.

"Come on, Sonny-boy," Brian lifted Gus into his arms, pressing kisses to his head – which stunk like little boy sweat from his day playing – before turning to the DVD player and taking out the disc. "Let's finish watching upstairs, whataya say?"

Gus rubbed his face against Brian's shoulder before nodding, and Brian had to suppress the initial urge to pull away – imagining all the snot now smeared on his shirt. But it didn't matter, he realized, feeling Gus start to relax in his arms as he slowly stopped hiccupping and began to resume normal breathing once more. What mattered was taking care of Gus. His shirt could be washed clean, ready for a new day good as new. Gus would need a lot more care than that.

Brian paused only a few moments to change Gus into his PJs and have him brush his teeth before he picked him back up and took him into the master bedroom, depositing him onto the bed and starting the movie on his own television. As Gus resumed the search for Nemo with Merlin and Dory, Brian changed into a teeshirt and sweats then joined his son under the covers, letting the little boy curl up against his side as he watched, well past his bedtime, the remainder of the movie.

Brian didn't speak, he just let his arm rest comfortingly around Gus's shoulders and occasionally he'd stroke the little boy's hair. As many times as Gus had watched this movie, Brian had never actually paid any attention to it at all and he was surprised to find he was slightly caught up in the escapades of the various characters. A fact he swore to himself he'd take to the grave. When the movie ended Brian found he was unwilling to just kick Gus out. He couldn't, without deep pangs of guilt, send his son back to his own room alone – not after that outburst. So Brian let Gus sleep with him that night and while the little boy slept soundly, Brian did not.

The following morning, after leaving Gus and Gina laughing in the sunny breakfast nook of the kitchen, Brian arrived at Kinnetik feeling unrested and out of sorts. For the first time since dealing with his radiation treatments for his cancer, he was wholly unconcerned about his business, and totally consumed with finding Gus some help.

* * *

There were no shortage of doctors or clinics Brian could take Gus. In fact it was the opposite - there were almost too many. So while it was easy to find a name and an office to call, what was far more difficult was finding someone who could take a new patient and then get an appointment sooner than in one or two month's time. Gus didn't have that long and so after the first five calls, Brian's first question changed from "are you accepting new patients" to, "how soon is your first available appointment". It didn't change his luck, but it did make the process slightly faster – even if it was only in Brian's imagination.

Brian, luckier than most in that he had money at his disposal, finally found a child psychologist that could see Gus that very week. Not until Friday, but it was sooner than anyone else had been able to offer, by several weeks. Brian booked the appointment and immediately felt better, even if it was a fleeting sense of relief.

In the days that fell between when Brian made the appointment and then when he took Gus, Brian did his own research. He talked to the pediatrics staff at the hospital when he took Gus to visit Lindsay, he researched the schools the man had attended, and finally researched the man himself. Those he spoke with said the guy he'd found, Martin Randell, was one of the best in Pittsburgh and the reason his schedule was so open was because he was so expensive. Most insurance companies wouldn't cover the full cost of his sessions – which for Brian made no difference, just as it didn't to most of the patients Dr. Randell saw. He was the preferred psychologist to the children of the wealthiest of Pittsburgh's elite – and Brian briefly found it satisfying that he could count himself as one of them.

When he'd told Lindsay about what had happened with Gus, she had been horrified. Brian wondered if she didn't blame him for it, even though she had said she didn't. Really, it didn't matter. Gus was Brian's responsibility and he had failed him, so whether Lindsay blamed him or not didn't matter because Brian blamed himself.

When Friday rolled around and Gina showed up with Gus at Kinnetik at the usual time (she brought him in each day so Brian could take him to see Lindsay), Brian sent her back to the house because after their lunchtime visit with Lindsay, Brian would be taking Gus to see Martin Randall.

Martin Randall's photo on his office website was far more complimentary to the man than the man deserved. Taller than Brian and stick thin, the man was like a skeleton and for a moment Brian wondered how children weren't frightened of him on sight; then he observed how he interacted with Gus.

He was gentle, and kind. Brian saw how Gus responded to him right away, and even with his straw-blonde hair that wasn't quite styled, his brown, horn-rimmed glasses, and the cheap suit and tie that were ill-fitting he could see why the rich of Pittsburgh took their children to talk to him. Though, Brian silently reserved the right to pass harsher judgment later – when he could assess if Gus's emotional turmoil had lessened, or not.

The meeting was just preliminary – Martin Randall, or Mister Marty as he told Gus to call him, wanted to sit down and talk to both Brian and Gus. Unaware that he would have to participate in the "therapy", Brian immediately resisted.

He, Brian, was fine.

He, Brian, didn't need to "talk".

He, Brian, had always handled the things that had happened in his life with the utmost maturity and aplomb.

But that was wrong. And he, Brian, knew it.

So he talked. He answered all of Martin's questions – which mostly revolved around Gus and his home life – but filling in the gaps with the back story of he and Lindsay's friendship, Melanie, and even Justin because Brian had to face it; Justin had been a part of Gus's life too.

To his credit Martin, Marty, didn't show any reaction one way or another to the tales Brian told. When spoken aloud, Brian thought it all sounded horrific and terrible, especially for a child, but he also had to figure that Marty probably saw and heard a hell of a lot worse. Brian shuddered to think what awful things the other children he helped talked about.

After speaking with Brian, Marty informed him that he wanted to talk to Gus, but alone. The thought made Brian nervous and as if expecting his hesitation Marty led Brian to an adjacent room with a one-way mirror. Brian could hear Gus, and see him on the other side, ramming some matchbox cars around. It made him uncomfortable to watch his son behave that way, crashing cars. He didn't know if it was influence from the accident, or just a "little boy" thing.

"I'm not going to do anything more than ask him some of the same questions I asked you," Marty stood next to Brian, a rare man who actually towered over him.

"You'll be able to hear everything I say and see everything I do," Marty reached a hand out and pointed to a small button next to the edge of the mirror. "If at any time you want me to stop, just press this button."

"Sure," Brian nodded, still somewhat uncertain. It wasn't that he didn't trust the man with Gus – though that was something the psychologist would have to earn over time – it was that Brian wasn't sure he wanted to hear what Gus would say. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what was happening in his son's head. He was afraid his shortcomings, so obvious to him, would come to bare and then there'd be no more hiding the fact that was a terrible person, a terrible friend, a terrible lover, and a terrible father.

Still, the mask remained in place and with a gentle smile Marty left Brian alone to watch and listen as he entered the playroom where Gus was now examining the contents of a rather large dollhouse.

"Hi Gus," Marty smiled and perched on a tiny, child-size chair. He looked ridiculous and Brian stifled a snorting laugh.

"Hi," Gus raised his eyes shyly to the man before turning back to the dollhouse.

"What are you looking for?" Marty asked casually.

Gus shrugged as reached in and pulled out a baby and a little boy doll.

"Do you see your family in there?" Marty pressed.

Brian watched as Gus shook his head. He still held the baby and the little boy in his hands.

"There's not two mommies," he said finally.

"Let's fix that," Marty lifted the roof off the house and from what appeared to be a secret compartment pulled out a bag full of dolls of various sizes, shapes and colors. "Here, you can pick."

Gus eyed the bag for a moment before digging in and pulling out a thin brunette and a thin blonde.

"Are those your mommies?" Marty asked as Gus set the two female dolls inside the house. Brian couldn't see where he'd put them.

Gus nodded as he then picked back up the baby and the little boy dolls and set them in the house too.

"Where are your mommies now, Gus?" Marty asked.

Gus paused before reaching in and pulling out the Melanie doll. Brian watched as he stared at it and then with a sudden violence that caught Brian complete off guard, he threw the doll across the room. Brian heard it crack against the far wall, out of his sight line. Gus then reached into the house and pulled out the Lindsay doll, placing it on another table, by itself.

"Your mommies aren't at home anymore?"

"Mama went away to heaven," Gus stated plainly, "and mommy has a broken back. She's at the hospital."

"And you live with your daddy," Marty gently prodded the little boy.

"And Gina," Gus added, turning back to the bag of dolls to pull out a tall man with brown hair and a female with red hair.

"Who's Gina?"

"She watches me and takes me places and gives me art stuff," Gus said, placing the Gina doll into the house. "She's nice."

"Daddy works a lot and is sad," Gus then held the "Brian" doll close, stroking its hair before placing it in the house. "Everyone left and daddy got sad. But sometimes he laughs."

Gus reached back into the bag and pulled out a man with blond hair. The little boy looked at the doll for a few moments before turning and putting it on the same table where "Lindsay" was. Banished to the outskirts of Gus's small world view.

Brian, who thought he was doing a good job of hiding his stress from his son, was speechless. The kid saw a hell of a lot more than Brian had ever given him credit for. He saw, and he knew. When everyone left he did get sad. Only in this case everyone meant Justin, and Gus fucking saw it.

Marty only asked Gus a few more questions after that before returning to the room where Brian was still trying to figure out how a little kid could be so observant and intuitive about the adults around him.

"I think we're looking at some loss and abandonment issues with your son," Marty sat on one of the several hard backed chairs in the room. Brian stayed standing at the one-way mirror, watching as Gus abandoned the dollhouse and decided to start putting together a puzzle.

"I figured that much," Brian grumbled back.

"I'd like to see him once a week, starting next week if you can. He's really a very smart, adjusted kid. He just has had a really bad past few months and he can't quite figure out how to handle all the emotions he's feeling. This is something we can work through though," Marty paused then and Brian turned to look at the man. "But you have to be willing to be a part of it."

It was good news – as good as it could be. Lindsay and Melanie had provided a stable and loving home for the two kids. That was the sole reason Gus wasn't more fucked up. Brian hated to think of the kind of life he might have if left solely to Brian's care. He might love his son, but that didn't mean he was the best thing for him and he would be forever grateful that Lindsay survived that accident and that she would be, soon if the doctors were to be trusted, back in Gus's daily life as his mother. He needed the reliability she gave him; after all reliability wasn't something Brian didn't think he was capable of offering – to anyone, ever.

"Yeah," Brian finally nodded his agreement, "whatever it takes."

* * *

Five days later Brian found himself at the airport baggage claim waiting for Justin. Brian had spent the days since Gus's appointment with the psychologist in uncharacteristic reflection. He knew he had to be stronger for the kid, he knew he had to provide more stability than he had been. He also knew that Justin coming back and then leaving again would not allow him to succeed in either of those tasks. What was he to do? He couldn't tell Justin he had to stay with his mother, or alone at the loft. He couldn't tell Justin that he couldn't see Gus because when he left again it would have a detrimental impact on the boy. He couldn't do anything to make the eventual loss be any better for his son. And he hated that fact.

A flash of familiar blonde hair caught Brian's eye and not moments later he was arms full of the other man.

"Is this a sign of the apocalypse? You, picking me up at the airport?" Justin had his arms wrapped tightly around Brian's neck.

The feel of him, the scent of him, Brian barely noticed some of the passersby giving them looks ranging from adoration to disgust.

"Are you sure this isn't too hetero for you?" Justin pulled back just slightly, his face only inches away from Brian, his eyes sparkling with his teasing tone.

Brian let his kiss, deep and long, be his answer.

He then led the younger man to the car, stuffing Justin's duffel into the tiny trunk of the 'vette.

"For some reason I thought you'd have gotten rid of this thing," Justin laughed.

"It's a classic. As if I would just give it up. Gus's nanny uses the _smart, responsible_ car," Brian replied with obvious sarcasm while pulling away from the airport with a peel of tires.

Being the first time Brian had seen Justin since the blonde had left Toronto, things between them felt surprisingly normal and comfortable. Since they'd last seen each other much had happened, yet still it was like no time had passed; like no arguments had been had, and no disappointment had been felt. It was false, of course. There was much they hadn't said or talked about that needed to be said and talked about, but there was time for that. Brian was sure Justin was holding back, that he had been for several weeks now; he felt certain before the long weekend was over he'd get a full earful of just how he had hurt the other man. It was only a matter of time. But until then – Brian would carry on as usual, but he'd be prepared, at any moment, to receive the punishment he knew he rightly deserved from the other man.

"So," Brian drawled with an air of playful condescension, "tell me all about New York."

"It's okay," Justin vaguely answered and Brian thought he detected a tone of irritation.

"Just okay," Brian replied, hazarding a glance to the younger man before he merged onto the highway that would take them back into the city proper, and the hospital. It had been an innocent enough question, but now Brian wondered…

"Yeah," Justin sighed, "just okay."

"Could you be any less convincing?" Brian answered.

"I don't know what you want to hear," Justin said quietly, causing Brian to glance at him again.

"Well you could tell me the fucking truth."

"What? The truth according to Brian?" Justin laughed and Brian could hear the acerbic undertones.

"No - just the truth," he repeated, more calmly and softly. He didn't like where this was going…

"Fine," Justin growled as he shifted in his seat and when Brian glanced at him again he was staring hard back at him. "Truth one, I'm lonely. Two, I'm broke. Three, I'm fucking horny all the time, and worst of all, I'm completely uninspired."

Brian turned his eyes back to the road in front of him, the early afternoon traffic slightly heavier than usual and offering some distraction from the bite of Justin's words.

"And that's the fucking God's honest truth. Happy now?" Justin added, twisting once more in his seat to stare out the window.

_Yeah. Happy. _

Brian sighed as he considered a response. This was just the tip and he knew that. Now he could either bait Justin into revealing the rest, or let it go – for the moment anyway. Weighing the pros and cons of either decision, Brian decided to let it go, knowing full well it would piss the younger man off even more but the fact was they were only a few minutes from the hospital, and he didn't want Gus or Lindsay to see them at each other. Gus didn't need the added stress, and Lindsay would demand to know why they were fighting which would lead to the admission of the HIV scare which would lead to undue stress on her…

_Fuck_!

Brian felt the still unfamiliar but unfortunately becoming more familiar panic rise in him as the situation in his head snowballed. It was only the act of parking the car in the hospital parking garage that helped save him from his seemingly eventual decline into madness.

The two men walked in silence. In the end, Brian hadn't said one word to Justin since his little outburst and while he felt bad for it, he didn't know what to say that wouldn't make things worse. For his part, Justin seemed content to let Brian be the one to make the next move which was fine – Brian wanted to make the next move, once he figured out what that move should be.

Entering the all too familiar hospital didn't help matters. Brian's mood, soured by the severe turn of events on the short drive from the happy reunion scene at the airport to their arrival at the hospital, only grew direr as they moved through the hallways of the hospital.

It happened every day; or rather Brian let it happen every day because he didn't want to forget. Memories of the night, and subsequent nights four years prior when Brian had sat and waited for news Justin would live, flooded him each and every day he walked into the hospital. All the nights he spent sitting and watching Justin sleep, or struggle through nightmares, all the while getting updates on his progress from the one lone nurse that seemed to understand what it was he was seeking from being there. She didn't offer comfort or pity – just the facts. And that was what Brian had wanted then – because he was undeserving of any pity, and had no right to try and offer any comfort.

Walking the halls with Justin beside him was like some cruel joke – a bad pun he didn't quite get. And it pissed him off.

"God I fucking hate this place," Brian growled as he and Justin entered the physical therapy and rehab center where Lindsay was still resident; the very place that had once housed Justin, too, for a short while.

"How many fucking times do I have to sit within these God-awful walls?" Brian threw his hands up to indicate towards the awful paint job. Entering the building always elicited this visceral reaction from him and he spoke without thinking about what he was saying.

Justin remained silent and Brian just scowled to himself as they continued down the hall, arriving at Lindsay's room just moments before Gina came in with Gus in tow. Justin barely had time to give Lindsay a hug before Gus was shrieking with joy and throwing himself at the blonde.

Brian's bad mood slipped away as he watched his son and Justin. Gus, the moment he saw Justin, started going on and on about art and his new colored pencils and pastels and charcoals and asking if Justin would help him paint a picture. Justin, giving Gus his undivided attention, simply grinned and agreed to it all.

Brian, his attendance requited at an afternoon meeting he wasn't able to reschedule, slipped out the door quietly. He left Justin and Gus to visit with Lindsay. Gina would stay as well so she could take Gus back home after the visit. Debbie had arranged a dinner with the group and so Brian would return after his meeting to get Justin and chauffeur him around to all the usual places, to see all the usual people.

Brian thought it might be a long night.

* * *

It was nearly 5pm when Brian returned to the hospital. There he found Justin and Lindsay alone and deep in conversation, their tones hushed. Brian's meeting had gone much, much longer than he'd anticipated and as such Gina and Gus were already long gone –back at the house.

"Hey," he called out after standing in the doorway watching the two blondes for a several moments.

They both jumped at his voice, and Brian offered a small chuckle.

Lindsay was smiling mischievously while Justin looked slightly uncomfortable – enough that Brian felt a momentary unease wondering what it was he'd just walked in on.

"Am I interrupting something?" He asked, unable to help the slightly snarky tone in his voice.

"No, just talking art," Lindsay smiled warmly at Brian from her wheelchair, before casting a glance at Justin that once again gave Brian slight pause.

"Michael called a little while ago and he just got the proof of the new issue of Rage back from the printer," Justin stood then, avoiding Lindsay's smile as he took a few steps towards Brian. "He wondered if I could come by, since I'm in town, and go over it."

"Now?" Brian asked, not bothering to hide his growing annoyance. He wanted to get this damned dinner at Debbie's over with, then take the blonde home so they could work out their issues, and then Brian wanted fuck his brains out…all these delays were making him cranky.

"If we get it done tonight we can send it back tomorrow and miss the weekend delay. And we'll have the issue ready for sale almost a week sooner," Justin said.

Brian could hear Michael's voice behind the words. He wondered if Justin had posed the same question that Brian had only to get the same response quoted back to him. With a fairly queen-like sigh and eye roll, Brian just nodded.

"See you tomorrow," he moved forward and leaned down to press a goodbye kiss to Lindsay's cheek but was caught off guard when she grasped his shoulders and held him to her, long enough to whisper in his ear.

"Be gentle with him," she breathed before letting him go and grinning at them, waving goodbye as if nothing was amiss.

_What the fuck?_ Brian thought as he slightly cocked his eyebrow at her before clearing his expression and turning to follow Justin out of the room.

Justin was quiet on the way to the Novotny-Bruckner's, and while it made Brian nervous he was relieved to see the anger that had consumed the younger man earlier appeared to be gone. Although the almost pensive look now on his face wasn't all that encouraging or comforting. He couldn't help but wonder what the hell Lindsay had meant…why did he have to be gentle with Justin? Had something happened he didn't know about? Was something wrong? Brian tried not to dwell on the mysterious words – hating the way it made him feel. He already had Lindsay and Gus concerning him, and the HIV shit, now there might be something more? He'd always handled crises well enough – but lately it seemed that every time one good thing happened, two bad things followed. It was an overgeneralization of course, but with all the crap of the last two months, and no real way for Brian to release his tension, he felt the strands of sanity keeping him grounded continue to strain and fray.

Because Justin and Michael were going to work on Rage Brian had to call and cancel dinner at Deb's, and she was less than pleased. As he silently listened to her rant about all the food she had prepared that would go to waste, Brian made a promise to himself to make Mikey pay for not calling his own damned mother. When he finally got off the phone with Deb, Brian called Gina to let her know he and Justin would not be back for awhile – possibly very late. She was very amiable about it, and happily agreed to get Gus dinner and get him to bed if Brian wasn't back in time.

Calls complete, Brian entered his best friend's house. Justin had disappeared within as soon as they'd arrived, leaving Brian outside to make his calls. Thus, when he entered the house he immediately heard the two voices – Mikey and Justin – talking practically over one another as they paged through the proof of their latest issue. Ben sat in the living room, a giggling JR standing balanced on his knees while her tiny fists gripped Ben's thumbs.

"Want something to drink?" Ben asked as Brian came in, but not moving to stand.

Brian turned to once again examine the other two men, heads pressed close together at the table as they worked.

"No," he answered, sighing and flopping down in the armchair adjacent to the sofa where Ben sat.

"Haven't seen you around much," Ben asked as JR bounced on her toes and shrieked laughter.

"Been busy," Brian watched the baby curiously. He didn't get why it was so funny, standing and bouncing on your toes.

"Work. You know."

"Sure," Ben laughed then as JR fell forward, cracking up too.

"She seems to be doing well," Brian said then nodding his head at the baby.

"She's great," Ben grinned, perching her back on his knees as they started the game over again. "Perfect."

Brian just nodded. He let his eyes travel around the room, taking in the earth-toned walls and the photographs that hung on them, all of them photos of either JR or Hunter. Brian felt a moment of shame – he hadn't taken a single photo of Gus since…well…ever. Though he _had_ many photos of Gus they were all courtesy of Lindsay and the only one on display was the one framed and perched on his dresser – the one from when Gus was just a few months old. And that was just because Lindsay had given it to him, already framed. He made a silent promise to start taking pictures – he wasn't sentimental that way but it was the least he could do for Lindsay. It would give her some sense of inclusion in her son's life. She put on a brave front, but Brian saw the pain in her eyes each time they had to leave her behind at the rehab center. And he knew the pain wasn't only from the injury and rehabilitation. She missed Melanie; she missed the kids; she missed her family.

"When's the last time you took her to see Lindsay?" Brian asked, suddenly intent to make sure his friend got some time with her daughter.

"We took her there day before yesterday," Ben answered, his brow slightly furrowed as he looked at Brian.

"Well, make sure you keep taking her," Brian responded.

"Of course we will," Ben said as JR suddenly fell forward again in a fit of giggles.

Brian watched Ben for a moment, feeling a sense of unease stir in his gut – the reason for it he couldn't quite pinpoint.

It was at that moment that JR decided she was done with the standing and falling game and that she wanted down off Ben's lap. The house, still in the throes of being baby-proofed, was in no condition for the quite mobile little girl and so Ben deposited her into the pack'n'play that was set up in the corner. She squawked her displeasure for several minutes before distracting herself with some books and dolls.

"You sure you don't want a beer?" Ben asked, standing now.

"Sure," Brian replied, "since you're up."

Ben flashed him a grin before disappearing into the kitchen and returning with two cold bottles of the local microbrew, Ironside. Beer had never been Brian's drink of choice, but he wasn't averse to consuming it when nothing better could be had. Ironside was a decent brew, too, but he was excited for the day when Sutton's Pale Ale was available. He was certain it would be a hit; in no small part due to his brilliant marketing. Thinking of the beer and his client led Brian to thoughts of Sam; and his HIV status.

Brian hadn't asked Sam about his status, or his treatment, or how he was dealing with it all since Sam had confessed to testing positive. But now, sitting opposite Ben and observing as the other man sipped the beer in his hand and watched Michael in the other room…

"So, Ben," Brian sat up a little straighter and hoped his voice didn't sound as tense and awkward to Ben as it did to his own ears, "how are you doing?"

"I'm fine," Ben replied with his trademark smile.

"I mean with, well you know," Brian's free hand flailed about in the air and he felt like a complete asshole.

"Yeah. I know what you mean. I'm fine," Ben reiterated. "Really. Never been better actually."

"How do you do that?" Brian blurted, trying to ignore the slightly surprised look on Ben's face.

"Are you doing research for some new drug or something?" he asked, avoiding Brian's question.

"No," Brian shook his head and let himself sink back into the cushions of the chair. "Just, you know. Curious."

"Right," Ben nodded and quirked an eyebrow.

Brian cursed to himself. The problem with behaving like a heartless shit all the time was that it was quite noticeable when he behaved otherwise and showed even an ounce of emotion or care.

"I have a friend who recently found out he's positive," Brian explained, acting as casual as possible. "I thought I could pass on some pearls of wisdom; so to speak."

"A friend?" Ben leaned forward then, his expression betraying real concern and Brian felt his own moment of surprise. Could it be the man was actually concerned Brian might be sick?

"No. No, no. It's a friend. Really," Brian leveled his gaze at Ben, "really."

"We're gonna order a pizza," Michael appeared before them then, his expression slightly strange as he looked between Ben and Brian. Brian wondered how much his friend had heard and hoped he wouldn't start asking questions.

"Better make it two if that one's having some," Brian smirked, hoping to divert everyone's attention as he nodded towards Justin who still sat the table.

"Fine. Preferences?" Michael rolled his eyes, the strange look now gone. Brian breathed a sigh of relief. Distraction worked.

Four hours later they finally left. It seemed Michael and Justin had a successful time with finalizing the new issue, and Brian was able to get a bit of good information out of Ben. The other man had even offered to talk to "Brian's friend", if he was amiable about it. Brian said he'd pass on the message.

As they drove out of Pittsburgh Brian had a flash of déjà vu; the last time he'd made this particular drive with Justin was also the one and only time Justin ever saw the house he'd christened Britin. Brian wasn't sure how Justin was feeling about returning to the house that Brian had declared "for his prince", and Justin wasn't saying.

They rode the entire way in silence, but strangely it wasn't uncomfortable. In fact, about half of the way there Brian felt Justin's hand light upon his thigh causing an immediate stirring in his groin; but the younger man never made a move towards that target, instead just resting his hand on Brian's leg and occasionally letting his thumb rub lightly the lightweight cotton-wool blend of his Armani suit.

Night had descended upon them long before they arrived at the house, so Justin was unable to see the new spring growth of flowers and flowering trees that Brian had instructed the gardener to plant and cultivate. He would deny it to anyone who asked, of course, but he had found the process of designing the front landscaping quite enjoyable.

Still, the air was scented with the sweetness of the blooming cherry blossoms and as they exited the car, much in the same manner as the first time Brian brought Justin to the house, the blonde even commented on it. They were his first words since leaving Michael and Ben's.

"Wow. It smells like heaven out here," the soft glow from the exterior lights gave Justin a pleasing color. His skin seemed almost translucent, and his hair appeared to glow.

Brian led him inside where the house was quiet and dark. Brian could just hear the low murmur of the television and as he headed towards that part of the house he could hear Justin following behind.

Gina was curled up on the sofa watching the local news when Brian entered. With a yawn she sat up and punched the power button on the remote control before offering Brian a tired smile.

"What happened," Brian immediately knew that things hadn't gone as smoothly with Gus as Gina had hoped.

"We just had a disagreement," she stood then, folding the blanket she had been cuddled beneath and draping it over the back of the sofa. "About watching Finding Nemo again."

Shit.

"I should have warned you, he watches it almost every night. What did you do," Brian felt himself tense as he thought about the emotional turmoil Gus must have endured with him gone – especially considering the last episode he had over that movie – and if Gina hadn't let him watch it…

"We watched it," Gina sighed. "He was irrationally upset about it and nothing I could do would calm him down. He kept crying for you."

Brian closed his eyes for a moment before offering Gina a soft smile.

"Thanks," he guided her towards the kitchen and the side door that would take her to her small apartment over the garage. "You did the right thing."

"No problem," she smiled once more and before exiting the kitchen she peered around Brian. "Goodnight you two!"

"Finding Nemo?" Justin stood in the center of the kitchen, looking around at everything. He'd gotten a quick walk through when Brian had brought him here for the first time all those months ago but since then Brian had remodeled and changed many things about the house. Justin likely didn't remember the details but it was likely he could tell things had been changed.

"Yeah," Brian turned off the kitchen lights and headed back through the living room to the grand entryway. He was too exhausted to go into the issues with Gus. He just wanted his bed; with Justin in it.

"Coming up?"

"Is that a good idea?" Justin hovered near the arched doorway that led to the living area. His arms were folded across his chest and he looked nervous…he looked…fuck! Brian suppressed a grin – he looked like he had that very first night at the loft. Like an innocent who didn't quite know what the fuck he'd gotten himself into.

"Why not?" Brian asked. He ached to feel Justin in his arms, to taste him on his lips, to be close to him again. Now that the he was standing there, so close, Brian felt an almost desperate need for the contact.

Justin didn't answer, he just quirked his brow slightly.

"Come on," Brian repeated, starting up the stairs and not looking back.

"I'm going to check on Gus then I'm going to bed. I hope you'll join me," he called as he neared the top of the staircase.

Gus was asleep, and Brian watched him for several minutes to make sure he wouldn't stir or that he wasn't in the midst of a nightmare. Finally, satisfied that the little boy was really out for the night, Brian crossed the hallway to the master bedroom, disappointed to find it empty.

Not about to chase Justin down and force him to come up, Brian stripped of his clothes and entered the bathroom to clean up. When he emerged about ten minutes later he was surprised to find Justin, fully clothed, sitting on the edge of the bed.

The sight of him, as it always did, stirred a primal desire within Brian and he felt his dick twitch and swell slightly, while the rest of his body grew hot under the intense scrutiny of the other man's blue eyes. Brian watched him take him in – his eyes traveling up and down Brian's naked form. He saw appreciation, and pleasure, and desire looking back at him but still neither man moved.

"Can I ask you something?" Justin said then, his voice soft and devoid of all pretenses.

"Yeah," Brian walked to his dresser and applied expensive, French eye cream to his eyes and neck before turning to face Justin.

"Did you come see me in the hospital?"

Brian felt his heart leap in his chest, the unexpected question rendering him completely motionless as he attempted to compose himself. He opened his mouth to answer but no words would come. He wasn't sure why the question was causing such a response in him – it was so long ago it shouldn't matter…yet it did. It mattered a lot.

"And why the fuck would you not tell me?" Justin's voice, no longer soft, was laced with pain. He seemed to take Brian's silence as confirmation, and Brian did nothing to dissuade that assumption.

It all had happened years ago – yet obviously the wound was fresh for Justin. That shouldn't have surprised Brian though; it was fresh for him too so of course it would make sense that it'd be fresh for Justin. Fresh, and unresolved – at least Brian's part in it. All Justin had wanted from Brian in those days was some sign that he cared – some gesture that showed Justin meant more to him than just a convenient, live-in fuck.

"I always suspected that you'd been there," Justin smiled softly, his expression clearing as he gazed at Brian with a look that seemed to indicate he'd gained some new understanding. Brian shifted uncomfortably yet remained silent.

"Maybe it was only once, or maybe it was every day. I never knew one way or the other but I had my suspicions. The way everyone acted afterwards though, they made it seem like you never visited," Justin stood then, moving towards Brian and holding his gaze hostage, "so I doubted my own instincts. I should have known better."

"It was every night," Brian said then, and Justin's eyes widened slightly at the admission.

"Every night?" Justin repeated and Brian shrugged casually.

"For how long?" Justin asked, reaching out and grasping Brian's hands in his own. Brian could see the hunger of his need to know, and with a sigh he shrugged again.

"The entire time," he answered.

"The whole two months I was there?" Justin dropped Brian's hands and stepped back. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"No one knew," Brian lied, easily enough. There was no need to cause a rift between Jennifer and Justin. It was done.

"Jesus," Justin shook his head, "you are such an asshole."

"I've never denied that fact," Brian said quietly.

"I asked you, and you lied to me," Justin moved back to the bed and sat down.

"Technically, I didn't," Brian quirked his brow as Justin rolled his eyes.

"Bullshit," Justin whispered.

"Do you realize how things might have been different? If I'd known?" Justin stood again, anger now evident in his face.

"Do you realize how things might have been different if I'd never gone to that fucking dance in the first place?" Brian yelled and Justin froze on the spot.

"Well? Do you?" Brian repeated in a quieter tone. The last thing he needed to do was wake Gus up with his yelling. Turning, Brian yanked open the drawer of his dresser and pulled out a pair of shorts; his woody was fading fast and he was no longer in the mood. He pulled them on as he felt Justin's gaze on him.

"No," Justin finally answered, "I never once thought about that."

"Well I have," Brian moved to his bed, sitting on the edge and leaning forward so his elbows were resting on his knees.

"For months I watched you struggle to sleep, haunted by nightmares, and I wished with every fiber of my being that I could go back in time and stop myself from going. Then you wouldn't have been hurt. And you would have gone on to be a fucking fabulous artist without the constant struggle to maintain control of your hand. Because no matter what you say, I know how hard it is for you – still. And I know you think of that night every time your hand starts to shake," Brian stared at his feet as he spoke. It was only a tiny fraction of the guilt he felt, yet baring it for Justin to see was one of the fucking hardest things he'd ever done.

"I mean you don't even remember it…," Brian stopped, feeling an onslaught of emotions he was unprepared for. He choked back a threat of tears and clenched his jaw against the pain.

"Don't," Justin's feet appeared in Brian's line of sight, staggering with his own. He felt Justin's hands dance lightly on the crown of his head as his fingers gently twirled his hair.

"It wasn't your fault," Justin whispered, "and I never blamed you. Ever. Not for one single moment."

Then Brian felt Justin's mouth on his head, his breath hot as he pressed kisses into Brian's hair.

"Do you hear me?" Justin's voice was only a whisper and yes, Brian heard him. But he didn't believe him. He didn't think he would ever believe him. Or anyone.

"Brian?"

"Yeah," Brian answered, sitting up. With a quick glance at Justin he stood from the bed and walked across the room to look out the window into the black of night. He missed the glow of the city; the constant signs of life visible from the windows of his loft. The blackness beyond the windows at the new house was too consuming – too much like a dark black hole that Brian felt he might fall into at any moment and never find his way out of. He didn't know why he felt so fatalistic; it was so unlike him. But if he were honest with himself, he did know. It really all came down to one thing. One person. The person he'd failed so many times; and he'd never taken responsibility for any of it. He guessed now was as good a time as any to start to try.

"Maybe you should blame me," Brian sighed, "there's enough I've done to earn some blame. Some anger. Like this HIV thing."

"I just don't understand why you're still here," he added.

"Why I'm-," Justin's voice came from right behind Brian, and he sounded exasperated. "What the fuck are you talking about? You fucking asked me to come."

"That's not what…shit," Brian rested his forehead against the glass. What the fuck was he doing? Did he want to push Justin further away, or did he want to try to repair what was already broken between them?

Justin's arms snaked around Brian's waist then, causing him to start with surprise. He could feel Justin's head pressed against his back, between his shoulder blades.

"Trust me, Brian," he said, "I'm perfectly aware of the things we've both done. I'm perfectly aware of the pain we've both caused each other. And even though I'm not here with you now you have to know I'm always with you in my heart."

And there it was.

"Don't do that," Brian turned to face Justin.

"What?"

"You know," Brian gently pushed Justin back, "you have to find your own life independent of me. I thought that was the whole fucking point of going to New York."

"No, that wasn't the whole fucking point," Justin looked at Brian with incredulity all over his face. "I never intended to do anything 'independent of you', as you say. I know what you said that night I left, the whole 'it's only time' speech, and I get why you said it but I never intended for that to be the last we ever saw of each other. As apparently you did."

"Because you can't live your life counting on me," Brian crossed the room again, trying to put some distance between them. He was getting confused, the more Justin talked the more blurred his perspective became and the more he doubted his rationale.

"Stop that!" Justin began to pace the room, "Stop fucking telling me what to do and bossing me around like-," he paused, his blue eyes flashing as he looked at Brian.

"Like?" Brian moved to sit on the edge of his bed, intent to watch and listen. The former something he always did with regards to Justin but the latter something he was just beginning to understand that he never really did enough; at least not when it counted.

"Like a fucking little wife," Justin said and unable to stop the sound, Brian laughed.

"Don't fucking laugh!"

"Look," Brian bit back the hysterical laughter that threatened to break forth and potentially ruin the entire weekend before it could even start. "It's not on purpose."

"That's so pathetic," Justin's hands flew to his hair and he grabbed at it. "Of course it's not on purpose. But no matter how many times I tell you what I want, or what I need you have to argue the point. You have to tell me what it is you think I want, or need."

"And I think I fucking know myself better then you," Justin dropped his hands and approached Brian so he was standing mere inches from him.

"But you wanted to go," Brian said softly, remembering the painful night they realized they were moving forward as shells of themselves. Each assuming they knew best what the other wanted from them when all they wanted was for the other to just be himself.

"I know," Justin's hands reached out and stroked Brian's cheeks, caressing the skin before they disappeared into his hair. "And I did; then. Now things are different. They are so wildly different it's ridiculous."

"Tell me," Brian whispered, his hands reaching out and disappearing inside Justin's shirt, pressing against the smooth but firm torso and eliciting an immediate response in his own body.

"I did tell you. I'm lonely. For you, but also for everyone else. It's not so easy to make new friends and if you thought people in the gay scene were cliquey and bitchy you should meet some of the artists I've come into contact with. Entitled, arrogant, snobs."

Brian raised his eyes to stare at Justin, losing himself in the depths of a blue so bright and deep that he thought if he stared at them long enough he could drown. And that wouldn't necessarily be a terrible thing, as far as Brian was concerned.

"I'm horny," Justin leaned forward then, pressing his lips to Brian's forehead, then nose, then lips, "I miss this. Your hands on me. The way you look at me. I miss you inside of me."

Brian rolled his lips into his mouth to hide the grin that wanted to burst forth.

"And I can't...in New York…it's just not…I mean not that I want to but I can't even go get temporary relief because-," Justin paused as Brian stiffened slightly.

"Because of me," Brian finished, "of what I did. To you."

"You didn't do anything to me," Justin's hands started in again, working through Brian's hair and massaging the nape of his neck. "We're both negative."

Brian remained silent. He knew it wasn't true – the part about how he didn't do anything to Justin. Because Brian had done a lot to Justin, he'd done many things he'd never answered for, or acknowledged. Including being the reason he was exposed to HIV…not to mention the syphilis from last year and who knows how many other STDs they didn't even know about…

"What else?" Brian murmured, closing his eyes and enjoying the feel of Justin's hands in his hair while his own hands continued to reacquaint themselves with the feel of Justin's body.

"Money is tight and while I have a nice amount in savings from Rage, I'd like to keep that in savings," Justin's eyes fluttered for a moment as Brian let his hands wander around the other man's narrow waist and down the back of his pants.

"I would help," Brian whispered, his hands gently massaging the ample swell of Justin's ass. "All you have to do is ask."

Justin just shook his head before he leaned in and pressed his mouth to Brian's neck. His breath, when he spoke, tickled the tiny hairs and sent a shiver through Brian.

"Contradiction, thy name is Brian Kinney," Justin gave a breathy laugh and Brian rolled his eyes, "I need to do this myself. But I love you for offering."

They stayed like that for a long minute, Justin nibbling and kissing Brian's neck while Brian's hands and fingers were in Justin's pants. His cock pulsed with each heartbeat and it was all he could do not to throw Justin down on the bed. He didn't – because he knew what was happening between them was important and needed to be played out to its conclusion, whatever that might be.

"And your inspiration?" Brian finally asked, breathless and excited.

Justin pulled back and they stared at each other. Brian knew it, then. Though he supposed he always knew it. While Justin had managed to do okay without him Brian knew he was still there, somewhere, in those paintings and drawings. Even apart, he was the source of it all. Justin had said as much just a little while ago.

"It's you, and you're not there," Justin finally said. No hint of accusation, no trace of laying blame. Simply a statement of fact.

"So what does this mean?" Brian asked, Lindsay's warning from earlier ringing in his head. He wondered if this was what it all boiled down too. Was this what she had been hinting at?

"I'm giving it six months," Justin said then and the determination in his voice told Brian he had been thinking about this for awhile and would tolerate no arguments to the contrary. "If I can't make headway, if I can't get some notice or recognition in six months time then I'm coming back."

Brian wanted to protest, wanted to tell Justin that six months was nothing, not enough time, a drop in the bucket. But then he remembered he'd already been in New York for almost four months.

"Did you talk to Lindsay about this?" he asked and Justin raised his eyebrows slightly in surprise.

"Yeah, I did actually," he said slowly, "she was apologetic for not being able to help more but she's been understandably distracted. And apparently that Simon guy decided to move to Paris a few weeks after I got to New York, so I don't even have him in my corner anymore."

"Well," Brian's hands gripped hard the fleshy globes of Justin's ass and the blonde gasped, "it sounds like you have a plan."

Done talking, Brian pulled the younger man closer to him and began kissing his neck, extracting his hands from Justin's pants and working the button fly open to shove his offending jeans to the ground.

"Can we?" Justin gasped and Brian felt a moment of uncertainty. It was true they were still, technically, not 100% out of the woods for HIV, but they had also tested negative twice and if they were safe they should be okay. Hell, Michael and Ben fucked all the time and Ben _was_ positive…

"Yes," Brian murmured into Justin's neck, "but only if you're sure."

Brian hoped Justin was sure but when he pulled back, his face bearing an apologetic expression, Brian knew it wasn't to be – at least not that night. He could only hope that by the end of the weekend, Justin would be comfortable enough, and confident enough, to trust Brian again. It was a horrifying thought – that he'd trashed what they'd had with each other with his stupid, adolescent behavior and his overwhelming need to control everything and everyone.

"I can't. Not yet," Justin said, his hands now seemingly desperate as they touched Brian's face and neck and chest. "I'm sor-,"

Brian's finger, pressed against Justin's lips, caused the blonde smile weakly.

"Sorry's bullshit," Brian said and though he ached in his groin, he stood and pulled Justin's shirt off him before directing him to the bed.

"I'll be a minute," Brian whispered, retreating to the bathroom to take care of his…problem.

When he came back Justin was curled up beneath the sheet, his blue eyes watching Brian as he crossed the room and crawled beneath as well. Then, in what had to be a first (at least as far as Brian could remember), Brian reached out and pulled Justin to him, the blonde's legs finding their way between Brian's as Brian wrapped his arms around Justin's torso.

They didn't speak, but Brian thought he felt a few tears land on his chest before he fell into a deep, restful sleep, the likes of which he hadn't experienced since long before the accident or HIV or any of the current shit in his life had happened.

* * *

Morning came too soon, as it always did for Brian. But the realization that Justin was still wrapped in his arms made the morning's arrival more than bearable.

Glancing at the clock he saw that soon Gus would be up and demanding breakfast. Brian had given Gina the day off, intending to leave Gus with Justin for the day while he worked. Gina had agreed to watch Gus again that night, as it was the grand reopening event for Babylon.

"Wake up, Sunshine," Brian whispered, his hand diving below the sheet and fondling the younger man's cock.

"Mmmmmm," Justin moaned, pressing his face into the crook of Brian's neck as he arched his back into Brian's touch.

Brian, taking Justin's response as permission to continue, pulled his arm out from beneath him before he crawled underneath the covers. Laying soft kisses down Justin's bare torso, he then pulled the other man's shorts down, freeing him. Then, without a moment's pause Brian took Justin in his mouth, relishing the gasp of breath he heard the younger man expel even as he tried to squirm from Brian's grasp. But Brian was not to be deterred. As much as he had missed the other man's hands and mouth on him he had also missed putting his hands, and mouth, on Justin. He worked his tongue slow, taking his time while his hands gripped hard to Justin's hips, keeping him down and prohibiting pretty much any and all movement.

The sheet was quickly thrown off, and Brian felt the cooler air hit him just as Justin's hands grabbed at his hair, pulling and threading and making what was likely a bigger mess out of his already disheveled head.

Justin didn't last long with Brian's mouth on his dick and his fingers working from his perineum to his ass and back again. Brian figured it was maybe five minutes before he came, shooting into Brian's throat before relaxing in a shuddering heap. His hands still deep in Brian's locks, with a gentle pull Justin guided Brian back up, letting go of his hair as he wrapped his arms around Brian's neck.

"Fucker," Justin whispered, pulling Brian down into an open-mouthed kiss that sent vibrations of desire through Brian's body to the tip of his pulsing erection.

"May I return the favor?" Justin whispered then, one hand traveling down to grasp at Brian's cock.

Brian grinned at Justin before he rolled onto his back, pulling Justin along with him.

"If you wish," he cocked his eyebrow and as Justin moved down the length of him, his lips kissing and his hands touching, Brian just closed his eyes and let himself drift away on the waves of pleasure overtaking him.

Thirty minutes later Brian was in the kitchen, his Armani suit perfectly pressed and not one hair out of place on his head. Justin and Gus sat in the breakfast nook, rays of morning light beaming in, both of them still in pajamas, and both of them eating cereal while they looked at the cartoons on the back of the box.

"So what are you two up to today?" Brian sipped his coffee.

"Oh I don't know," Justin turned to Gus, "what do you want to do today?"

"Paint!" Gus exclaimed and Brian chuckled.

"Well you'll have to go buy some supplies in order to do that," Brian set his coffee down and pulled out his wallet. Thumbing through the bills he pulled out four hundreds. "This should be enough for whatever he wants to get."

"Yeah," Justin laughed as he eyed the cash, "I'd say so."

"You can take the Mercedes," Brian set his coffee mug in the sink and walked over to the small table where his boys sat, resting his hand on the nape of Justin's neck.

"I'll be back about five," Brian leaned down and kissed Justin, smiling at the giggle from Gus and after a kiss to his son's head he headed off to Kinnetik for another day of meetings and layout approvals, feeling more relaxed than he had in months.

* * *

"Shit," Justin's voice was soft, breathless.

"What?" Brian glanced over at the blonde. His complexion seemed paler in the fading daylight.

They were sitting in Brian's car, having just parked in the alley behind Babylon where Brian had designated spaces for himself and his employees. He could just hear the "thumpa thumpa" of the music from inside the newly remodeled club. As they'd driven past the front of the club Brian had been pleased to see a fairly decent crowd of folks curiously watching the activity and hovering around. He felt more confident than ever that the club would bounce back, better than before.

Though this Thursday night opening was a private affair of nearly 200 of his closest "friends", Brian knew the activity at the club would get tongues wagging and the following night, the first night open to the public, would be amazing. He was counting on lines around the block. He had no doubts of that.

"I just haven't been back here since that night," Justin finally answered and Brian cursed silently.

He hadn't even considered what coming back to this place would do or mean for Justin. He had forgotten that the blond had left Pittsburgh not quite a month after the bombing – and before Brian had decided to reopen. He wouldn't have had any occasion to return. His last memory of Babylon was of devastation and destruction. Of hate.

"The bombing," Brian clenched his jaw, watching Justin, waiting to see how this would play out.

Brian wanted to go inside; he wanted to bask in his success. But if Justin couldn't do it…then he wouldn't. He'd take the younger man home and they'd have their own, private party.

"It's strange," Justin looked at Brian then and his expression wasn't panicked or frightened, as Brian had expected, but rather wistful. "I don't think of it like that."

Reaching out a hand, Brian felt Justin's fingers slowly stroke his cheek, "I think of it as the night you first told me you loved me."

Brian allowed a small smile to pass his lips as he reached up and grasped Justin's hand, bringing it to his mouth and gently suckling the tip of his index finger before pressing soft kisses on his palm and then journeying up the inside of his wrist. He kept his eyes on Justin's face, watching as the younger man's mouth hung slightly open while his blue eyes, foggy with desire, moved between Brian's mouth and Brian's eyes.

Going as far as he could without physical removing Justin's shirt, Brian bit down just hard enough to see a tiny flinch cross the other man's face. Then he dropped Justin's hand and grinned wide, opening his door.

"Shall we?"

Brian led Justin into the club through the back entrance, the bulky hired security manning the door opening it without word as they approached. Brian nodded his thanks before grasping Justin's hand and pulling the younger man to him.

"Here we go," he murmured, though whether it was for himself or for Justin he wasn't sure.

Brian, glad to be supporting his friend but also recognizing he was the best damn party planner in all of Pittsburgh, had hired Emmett to plan the evening's event. He'd given his flamboyant friend a list of do's and don't's, and from what Brian could tell upon entering the main dance floor of the club, Emmett had listened and listened well.

It was elegant, yet colorful and flashy; an appropriate level of "gay", Brian thought. There was a strong focus on black, silver, and white as Brian requested, but with brightly colored accents to bring the club to life. Strobe lights flashed their rainbow of colors while tiny pieces of confetti rained down at random moments. Enough to give the atmosphere the old, Babylon feel. It was almost as if nothing had changed.

Though much had changed. Brian glanced down at Justin who was staring out at the dancing mass of men (mostly, though a few women were present too) with a giant grin.

"Looks like you did it," Justin said, his arm snaking around Brian's waist as his hand squeezed that one particularly sensitive spot that could reduce Brian to a puddle of laughter. He hated it, his ticklish spot, but when Justin had discovered it Brian had gained a new appreciation for it. The younger man knew not to abuse his knowledge of it, but he also knew when he should and could use it to his advantage.

"I never doubted I would," Brian cocked an eyebrow at Justin, eliciting a soft laugh from the other man.

"Me either," he replied just before Brian leaned down and placed a soft, open-mouthed kiss on Justin's full lips.

"Brian! Hey! Brian!"

Pulling back, Brian turned towards where he heard Michael calling his name. His arm now draped across Justin's shoulders, Brian led them towards the black-clothed pedestal table that was littered with empty beer bottles and a few wine glasses. His friends were gathered there, Mikey, Ben, Ted, Blake, and Emmett, all grinning at them and before Brian knew it Justin was pulled from his grasp as Emmett engulfed him in a giant hug, peppering him with questions about New York.

"This is some party," Ben grinned. Brian took note of the bottle of water in the professor's hands and smiled.

"Did you expect anything less than fabulous?" Brian smirked.

"As if," Ted laughed, lifting his beer and taking a long draw.

Suddenly Justin was there in front of him, holding out a tumbler of caramel colored liquor; Chivas Regal. Brian noticed he had one of his own in his hand and without a word the two men clinked glasses before downing the scotch in one gulp.

"Is your super sexy new friend coming tonight?" Emmett, who was holding a fresh cosmo, sipped as he batted his glitter-lined eyes at Brian.

"He was invited," Brian answered vaguely, unsure if Sam would really make an appearance, and unsure of how he felt about Emmett's obvious attraction to the other man.

Brian also tried not to notice the clouded expression that passed, momentarily, over Justin's face as the younger man set his glass on the tall table amongst all the others.

"Let's dance," Justin grabbed Brian's arm in both hands and pulled him to the dance floor.

Brian vaguely heard Emmett calling after him, but chose to ignore him. He wanted nothing more than to dance with Justin – to once again be the center of attention.

Though his eyes never left Justin, Brian sensed the crowd around them move back slightly, giving them space. He knew there were eyes on them, and he knew that everyone in the club wished they were one of the two men. Brian knew what they looked like together, and he relished the thought that they were the envy of all.

They danced then – song after song after song. Brian wasn't sure how many songs they danced, the music kept changing and transitioning, one heavy beat flowing into another. It was all background noise, though. The way Brian pressed his body against Justin, the way they moved as one unit, it was all instinctual. There was no thought to dance steps or keeping with the rhythm.

The two men had hands on each other the whole time. Bodies in fluid motion as they carded fingers through hair, fingered the nape of a neck, traced lines down cheeks. Brian buried his face into the crook of Justin's neck while he let his hands drift down to massage the gorgeous bubble butt of his dance partner, all the while feeling Justin's hands on his own hips, his fingers seeking skin contact as Brian felt hands beneath his shirt, leave hot trails across his skin. They never stopped touching. They never stopped moving.

Brian thought he heard Michael and Ben come up and tell him goodnight, but he couldn't be sure. He was actively ignoring everyone around him who wasn't blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and named Justin Taylor.

"You know, I owe you a little something for that atrocious birthday card you sent," Brian grinned, feeling tiny beads of sweat fall slowly down his back and Brian knew they'd likely been dancing for near an hour. It hadn't felt like it, however, no matter how sweaty they both were. It didn't matter either, because Brian knew he could keep on going – like fucking, he would dance all night with Justin if he had too. If it was all the other man could give him. All Brian wanted was to keep touching, and moving, and feeling Justin's body next to his. He'd rather it be naked contact, but he wasn't about to pressure Justin into anything – he'd just open the door and see if his Sunshine came through.

"I think I'm ready to collect," Justin growled in Brian's ear before biting his earlobe.

Brian felt his jeans tighten significantly as Justin's hands tweaked his nipples before running down the front of his torso and grazing the obvious bulge in the front of his pants.

Turning to lead Justin off the dance floor and to the backroom, Brian stopped short as he nearly ran face first into Emmett…and Sam.

"Look who I found!" Emmett preened, the glitter around his eyes catching the flashing strobe lights as they flashed in wild, unpredictable circles around the dance floor.

"Hey," Brian felt Justin's arm slip around his waist and instinctively he reached an arm around the younger man's shoulders, "glad you could make it."

"This is some party," Sam smiled and Brian saw Emmett swoon on his feet as he stared adoringly at Sam. Brian almost felt sorry for his friend – unsure of how heartbroken he might be when he found out Sam was positive.

"All thanks to your dance partner," Brian smirked, "I just write the checks."

"And nixed almost all my ideas," Emmett leaned in and said, laughing when Brian reached out and lightly slapped his cheek.

"Your ideas," Brian grinned, "were too fucking gay."

At that moment, Brian felt Justin's hand squeeze his hip. Looking down into blue eyes he was met with an expectant smile.

"Sam, this is Justin," Brian, keeping his eyes on his partner, said before looking back to the other man, "Justin, Sam."

"Sam's a client, from Toronto," Brian added as the older man held out his hand and Justin shook it.

"Brian's told me a little about you," Sam smiled, his eyes moving to Brian briefly before settling back on Justin. At the same time, Brian felt his world shift slightly beneath him.

"Really," Justin's tone was impossible to decipher but when his arm dropped from Brian's waist, Brian didn't need to interpret his tone.

A tickle of fear started to tingle at the back of his head as he watched Justin stare at the man, a curious smile on his face that Brian had only seen a few other times. And each of those times the end result had not been mind-blowing sex. He didn't think this time would be any different. There was no going back now – because one way or another, he would have to come clean to Justin.

Brian, plastering a fake smile on his face that caused Emmett to tilt his head curiously at him, reached out and slapped Sam, hard, on the shoulder.

"Excuse us, boys," he grasped Justin's hand and pulled the younger man through the crowded dance floor, ignoring Ted's calls as they swept past the table where he stood with Blake and a bottle of wine at the ready, and straight out the back door into the night.


	13. Broken English

"_Sam, this is Justin," Brian, keeping his eyes on his partner, said before looking back to the other man, "Justin, Sam."_

"_Sam's a client, from Toronto," Brian added as the older man held out his hand and Justin shook it._

"_Brian's told me a little about you," Sam smiled, his eyes moving to Brian briefly before settling back on Justin. At the same time, Brian felt his world shift slightly beneath him. _

"_Really," Justin's tone was impossible to decipher but when his arm dropped from Brian's waist, Brian didn't need to interpret his tone. _

_A tickle of fear started to tingle at the back of his head as he watched Justin stare at the man, a curious smile on his face that Brian had only seen a few other times. And each of those times the end result had not been mind-blowing sex. He didn't think this time would be any different. There was no going back now – because one way or another, he would have to come clean to Justin. _

_Brian, plastering a fake smile on his face that caused Emmett to tilt his head curiously at him, reached out and slapped Sam, hard, on the shoulder._

"_Excuse us, boys," he grasped Justin's hand and pulled the younger man through the crowded dance floor, ignoring Ted's calls as they swept past the table where he stood with Blake and a bottle of wine at the ready, and straight out the back door into the night._

"Brian."

Holding his hand and pulling him behind, Brian heard him, but ignored him. He had to get to the car. He didn't want to discuss the things they needed to discuss in front of anyone else.

The night had cooled significantly in the time they'd been inside. Brian heard the door shut behind them as he pulled Justin into the alley and headed towards the corvette. The security guard at the door also did not need to be privy to this conversation.

"Brian," Justin pulled back a little causing Brian to slow down but still he didn't stop.

"Brian! Stop!"

He stopped, then. The 'vette was still a few cars away and as he looked back towards the alley entrance to the club he saw the security guard watching them, but he was also at least a hundred feet away. A safe enough distance.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Justin asked, then, his face screwed up in confusion.

Brian shook his head, avoiding looking directly at the other man. He was afraid. Not just of what he had to tell Justin, but also because he was reacting so startlingly and Justin noticed.

"Look at me," Justin said, his voice soft. Brian wanted too; he wanted to look at him and know that everything was okay. But Brian knew if he looked at him then Justin would see _he_ was not okay. He would see Brian unraveling…fast.

"Brian," Justin's hand gripped his chin then, and he turned Brian's head, forcing him to look.

Brian didn't speak, just met the blue eyes of the man he loved, the only man he'd undoubtedly ever love; they stared back, searching, reading, trying to see. Brian could practically see Justin connecting the dots in his head as they stared at each other.

"Was that him?" He asked and surprisingly, he didn't sound angry.

Brian paused. He couldn't have this conversation in an alley – they needed privacy.

"Not here," Brian said before once more grabbing Justin's hand and pulling him towards the car.

The loft had remained empty since Brian took up residence at the house. He hadn't been back there in that time, either, so when he slid open the door and punched in the alarm security code he immediately noticed a staleness to the air. It only added to his uncertainty and unsteadiness. Things were different, nothing was as it should be and Brian was off-kilter because of it.

On the car ride, which was thankfully quite short, Justin didn't speak while Brian stole surreptitious glances at him, trying to gauge his emotional state but Justin's expression was clear and emotionless. So used to the younger man wearing his emotions proudly and for all to see, Brian felt a nervous energy blossom in his gut. He didn't like the feeling.

Sliding the door closed, Brian turned to see Justin standing in the open space of the loft, staring at him expectantly.

"Well?" Justin raised his eyebrows.

"Drink?" Brian moved to the kitchen where he'd left his stock of liquor, buying all new for the house. He got out two tumblers and filled them both with some Beam – generous amounts each. He downed his before Justin had even picked up his glass, and was in the process of pouring a refill as the other man took a sip. Brian felt eyes on him and he knew he was making things worse by stalling – but the fact that Justin was acting so blasé had Brian totally freaked out.

Justin didn't do blasé save for the times he was really at the end of his rope. Brian had a sinking feeling things were going to get really bad before they would ever even begin to get good again.

Gulping half of his refill, Brian let the warm burn of the liquor coat his stomach and throat before he set the glass on the counter. Justin had taken a perch on one of the barstools opposite him and the safety of the barrier of the island between them gave Brian odd comfort.

"That was him," Brian met Justin's gaze.

"So what's he doing here?" Justin asked, his voice calm but strained. Brian could practically hear him trying to keep himself under control and it soothed his nerves somewhat to know that he was at least feeling something beneath that cool exterior he was presenting. Justin didn't hide his emotions much, or at all really, and so Brian had never really needed to learn to read him, not like Justin had learned to read Brian.

"He's a client," Brian downed the rest of his drink and considered pouring more but decided against it; for the moment anyway.

"Yeah, you said that at the club," Justin spun his still half-full glass in his hands, staring at Brian.

"A brewery in Toronto hired Kinnetik for a new campaign," Brian started the cliff notes version of the story, "and when I showed up to the meeting Sam was there. He's the CFO of the company and involved in the development of the campaign."

"Okay," Justin nodded, "but _why is he here_?"

Justin punctuated his last four words with a clipped cadence.

"He's working on the campaign," Brian said lamely.

Justin smiled humorlessly as he shook his head.

"You're talking me in circles. Just answer the fucking question," Justin sighed, and Brian saw a brief flash of fear and pain cross his features.

"He wanted to get out of Toronto," Brian said, reconsidering pouring another few fingers of Beam.

"Are you fucking him?" Justin said then and Brian let out a soft chortle of laughter.

"No."

Justin nodded slowly and Brian realized something shocking. Justin didn't believe him. It was evident on his face. In the way he was looking at him. And Brian felt actual heartache.

"You don't believe me," he smiled, his voice barely a whisper.

"I don't know what to believe," Justin replied, "I mean what are the chances? The one time you go out in Toronto – at least I assume it was just the one time – you fuck some stranger who tracks you down to tell you to get tested. Then, he magically works for a company that decides to hire _your_ company, and then he comes back to the city where you live and work?"

Brian just shrugged. It was just a strange, fucking coincidence. There was no maliciousness, no hidden agenda, and even if Sam wanted Brian, Brian didn't want Sam. He'd been there, done that, and was dealing with the consequences now.

"And you talked to him? About me?" Justin now sounded upset, and Brian wondered if it wasn't the thought of him fucking Sam but the thought of him talking to Sam that really bothered him.

"I'm not fucking him," Brian reiterated, taking a deep breath and taking the plunge – stepping off the cliff, hoping he had a firm grip on the hand of the man he was dragging down with him.

"He's positive."

Justin's face clouded with confusion before his eyes widened slightly.

"What?" his voice was low, and there was no mistaking anger now.

"You heard me," Brian said, picking up the Beam and pouring nearly to the rim of his glass. This conversation was going to require lots and lots of alcohol.

"You were never going to tell me," Justin slid from the stool abandoning his still half-full glass as he started pacing back and forth across the hardwood floor of the loft.

"You fucked him, then you fucked me," Justin shook his head and looked at Brian with obvious, glaring disappointment.

"He's positive. And you fucked him. And you fucked me," he repeated the words as if daring Brian to laugh it off, say it was just a joke, a late April Fool's.

"Yes," Brian admitted before gulping half his glass.

"He's positive," Justin continued to shake his head, "When did you know?"

"About a month ago," Brian said, taking a drink from his glass.

"Jesus," Justin looked at him with true astonishment, "If I'd let you, you would've fucked me last night. Wouldn't you?"

Brian paused.

"Everyone was safe. We've already tested negative twice. We would have been safe," Brian said quietly, regretting the words almost as soon as they'd left his mouth. They sounded desperate, and pathetic, and so ruthless.

"Safe?" Justin laughed. "Safe would be not fucking every damn stranger you see. Safe would be asking first if someone was negative before sticking your dick in him."

Brian stared at the counter top. Justin was right, of course. How simpler Brian's life would be if he didn't let his cock rule him; if he could be content to fuck one, and only one man. It'd be so much simpler. But he just wasn't that way, and he wasn't sure he'd ever be that way.

"And that's not even the point."

Brian hazarded a glance at him, and then regretted looking. The blonde was staring at him, his expression so unguarded and reflecting more hurt than Brian had seen before.

"You would never have told me he was positive, and you would have let me be sexual active with you, and that's not fucking okay!"

"You-," Justin's mouth hung open and his eyes shone with wetness, yet he couldn't finish speaking.

Justin was right, of course. No matter if they would have been safe or not; no matter that Brian's best friend had been fucking an HIV positive man for years and was okay; the point was Brian didn't tell Justin that the man who had started this all, the man that Brian had tricked that one night in Toronto, was positive.

It was, basically, one of the worst decisions he could have made and Brian saw that so damn clearly now. He saw that he should have told Justin immediately when Sam had tested positive because that knowledge changed everything, and made every sexually-related decision either of them made all the more important. And he'd taken away that choice from Justin. He'd basically stolen the right for Justin to make informed decisions.

"Fuck you," Justin said then, his face set like stone yet still a lone tear slipped from his eye.

Brian moved then, instinctively, rounding the kitchen island and approaching the other man.

"No," Justin stepped away.

Brian stopped. Letting his hands fall to his side.

"I don't even know-," Justin spoke, his voice stronger now – his anger seeming to transform him, give him strength.

"I'm sorry," Brian said then, knowing anything else he might say would only add fuel to the fire, and really, all he could and should do, was fucking apologize.

Justin laughed and Brian wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or not that it sounded like genuine amusement.

"How many times I would have given anything to hear you say those words to me," Justin said, "I guess you really do save them for situations that truly require an apology."

Brian didn't respond. He didn't know how.

"What now?" Justin asked. "Or more importantly, who else knows?"

"No one," Brian took a step forward, feeling some sense of ease when Justin didn't immediately take his own step back.

"I mean, Ben knows I have a friend who is positive but that's all," Brian added and Justin laughed again.

"A friend," he smiled, though it lacked any warmth. "Everyone knows you don't have friends – not outside the group. Do you really think he doesn't assume you've fucked him? Or that it's really you?"

Brian shrugged. What Ben assumed, or didn't assume, Brian could care less. He'd admitted nothing to no one and he never would.

"Well Michael hasn't been beating down my door so I'm guessing whatever Ben may or may not think, he hasn't shared the info with his little wife," Brian added.

"This is so fucked up," Justin said, his tone now laced with irritation. He moved back to the island where he picked up his glass and downed the remainder of his drink in one swift gulp.

"Yeah," Brian whispered in response, watching the younger man move around to the other side of the island to pour another drink before walking to the sofa and sinking down onto the cushions. His shoulders slumped and to Brian he looked defeated. Beaten down into submission – fuck, Brian hated himself.

Brian moved slowly, joining Justin on the sofa but keeping several inches of space between them. He took note that the other man didn't move away when Brian sat down, and he took that as a positive sign.

They didn't speak for a long time. Justin simply sipped his drink while Brian stared alternately out the window and down at his hands. He was leaving it up to Justin. He would follow his lead, and take his cues from him. And if Justin wanted nothing more to do with Brian, well, then that'd be that.

"I feel betrayed," Justin suddenly said, breaking the long silence.

"And you've never made me feel that way before," he continued. "You've broken my heart more than once, and hurt me seven different ways from Sunday; hell you've even lied to me before but I have never felt how I do now because of you. I hate it. It's…-,"

Brian accepted the words. He owned them. When Justin paused though, Brian looked at him.

"It's what?" he said softly encouraging him to continue, to get it all out because Brian was slowly starting to realize that there was a hell of a lot more unfinished business between them then he'd previously thought. The previous night was just a small taste and if Brian had any hope of retaining even a fraction of Justin's affections he needed this. If he had any hope of regaining Justin's trust he needed this.

"It's just you. I've always known who you are and how you are but this is…even for you this is pretty damn low," Justin sighed, "and I don't know what to do," he added softly.

Brian stared at his hands, starting when Justin reached out and grabbed him, pulling one of his hands free. Their fingers threaded and Justin lifted Brian's hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

"I love you so damn much," he said, turning his head, "which is why this hurts so fucking much."

Brian wanted to reach out with his free hand, to stroke the smooth skin of his cheek, to finger the soft tendrils of that bright, blonde hair. He didn't. He wasn't entirely sure Justin would accept or appreciate the gestures.

"That's why I didn't tell you," Brian said and Justin's confused expression spurred him to continue, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he had time to think, or to censor them.

"I was protecting you. This entire situation is my fault. I can't seem to handle grief or any other real emotion in any way other then fucking. And instead of talking to you I pushed you away and sought out a stranger to stick my dick into and now we're here. So be mad. Be angry. Tell me to fuck off or that you never want to see me again. But know the reason I didn't tell you was to save you from the worry and the pain. I love you too much to be the reason, yet again, for hurting you."

"But you did hurt me anyway," Justin laughed sardonically, "Jesus, Brian, we just had this fucking conversation last night. You can love me all you want but you can't make decisions for me and you can't decide what to tell me, especially when my fucking health is on the line!"

Brian squeezed Justin's hand, refusing to let go as the blonde tried to pull away, "I get that now."

"Now?" Justin let his head fall back against the cushion as he gave up trying to reclaim his hand.

"Better late than never?"

Justin just offered a breathy laugh before closing his eyes, "Fuck."

Brian pulled Justin's hand to him, noting it was his right hand – his weakened, injured hand. He loosened his grip then, afraid he might cause further damage even though he knew it wasn't really possible.

"What now?" Brian asked, watching Justin as he shrugged and shook his head.

So. It would remain to be seen.

* * *

Brian went in to work early the next morning. Though he and Justin had shared his bed, the chasm between them was larger than ever.

Nothing had been resolved or decided and so the men tabled the discussion, going to bed. There were no goodnight kisses and no morning blow jobs or even words exchanged, even though Brian was pretty sure Justin was awake when he left. Brian left behind the keys to the Corvette for Justin so he could go see his mom and sister and he walked to Kinnetik, taking the opportunity to enjoy the fresh air and the time alone to think, though really all he could do was dwell on his schedule. It seemed with each passing week his life was becoming less and less his own and while logically he knew that was part of being a father, he also hated it. He just needed a moment of his own, to breathe, to figure shit out.

But it wouldn't be this day. Gus had his first appointment with the psychologist that afternoon and afterwards they'd stop at the hospital to see Lindsay. Then that night was the public reopening of the club and Brian intended to be there with Justin, at least for a little while, to see how things went. Now he wasn't so sure Justin would want to go back. In fact he was pretty sure Justin would not want to go.

But first, Brian had a morning meeting with Sam, Brown Sutton, and Darcy Lang about the campaign launch for Sutton's White Water Pale Ale at the end of the month. The problem was Sam Fairfield was the last person Brian wanted to see after the awful night he'd had.

Arriving at Kinnetik before most of his staff, Brian retreated to his office where he gathered the materials they'd need for the meeting and made sure the webcam was set up for Darcy and Brown – who were going to be attending the meeting virtually from Toronto. This was the first time Brian was using this technology for a client meeting and he'd threatened his small IT staff with unemployment if it didn't work as expected.

Brian busied himself arranging the meeting materials, since Cynthia was not in yet and he couldn't just sit at his desk. He needed to be busy. So he was circling the large conference table getting everything set when he heard the door to his office open with a slight 'whoosh' of air.

Glancing over his shoulder he smirked at Cynthia's surprised expression.

"This is a shock," she smiled as she walked through Brian's office and into the tiled, former steam room now Brian's conference room, watching as he placed the last of the packets at the table.

"I was tired of waiting for you to show up," Brian responded and Cynthia laughed.

"This is the first time, I think since I've worked for you, that you've beat me to the office," Cynthia examined the table as if looking to see if something was missing, "so, you don't get to play injured party to me."

Brian rolled his eyes and both of them turned to look as Brian's office door 'whooshed' open again and Ted came in, walking with purpose and apparently very anxious about something.

"Bri, what the fuck happened last night?" Ted strode straight up to Brian. With a smile, Cynthia excused herself.

"Good morning to you, Theodore," Brian moved back towards his desk.

There was still roughly thirty minutes until the meeting, more than enough time for Ted to ask questions and generally drive Brian mad with his prying. Ever since he'd began working for Brian, and ever since Brian had reluctantly required Ted's help during his radiation treatments, the other man had slowly tried to get Brian to talk more and more personally about his life and most of the time Brian found it charming and cute but not this time. Brian did consider Ted a friend, but what he was dealing with, with Justin, was not even for his best friends to know about.

"Nothing the fuck happened," Brian finally responded, settling behind his desk and bringing up his email, desperately hoping for some advertising emergency that would allow him to kick Ted out of his office for the next half hour.

"Well something sure as hell happened," Ted pulled over on the of the white chairs from the small round table and positioned himself in front of Brian's desk, "because after I saw you race out of the club with Justin, Emmett and Sam came back over to the table. Emmett seemed concerned about you, and Sam seemed amused about Justin."

Brian, pretending he wasn't listening, found this information to be curious. He looked at Ted, simply raising his eyebrow and giving the other man permission to continue.

"Well," Ted, seeming to know perfectly well how to read Brian's facial quirks, "Sam said something like he thought you were about to get into trouble with your Sunshine."

Brian abandoned his email then, turning to face Ted full on.

"And?"

"And? And that was all," Ted shrugged, "Emmett started going on and on about how Debbie was the one who first called Justin Sunshine, and then he somehow transitioned into telling Sam about the time he was going to get a new ass."

Brian huffed a laugh. Only Emmett…

"Gee, so sorry I missed all that," Brian said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. As for Sam though…Brian didn't like the other man speaking so freely about him in front of his other friends. He'd have to have a serious conversation with him; and soon.

"Yeah. Well, anyway," Ted stood then, moving the chair back to the small round table and turning to face Brian once more, seeming to have forgotten about trying to pry details out of Brian about his night. "I'll let you get ready for the meeting. You're going to be at Babylon again tonight, right?"

Brian nodded, "For a little while anyway."

Ted smiled.

"Will Justin be with you?"

Ah. There it was. Ted was smarter than Brian gave him credit for.

"No," Brian busied his hands, organizing a stack of proofs for a new sunscreen campaign they were working on.

"_Is_ everything alright?" Ted asked.

Brian raised his eyes and gave Ted his best 'none of your fucking business' look.

Ted just nodded and with a slightly twitchy smile, left Brian's office.

Twenty-five minutes later Brian was sitting at the large conference table with Cynthia, Ted, his two art department heads, and Sam. On the TV screen facing them were Darcy and Brown. Hovering at the back of the room – per Brian's instructions – were the IT guys. There just in case of a problem. But there was no problem. The webcam conference went smoothly, and the final decisions were made for the launch of Sutton's White Water Pale Ale. With final art approval given, Brian dismissed the art department and the remaining players then discussed overall strategy, markets to target, and the order in which to release the ads within the various media. It was extremely productive, and Brian felt really good about their strategy. The campaign would launch in two weeks, just in time for the July Fourth holiday and just in time for the new brew to be pulled out of the supermarket coolers for the big fireworks show and the backyard barbeque. Brian thought it was perfect timing.

It was nearly eleven in the morning before the meeting officially broke up and Cynthia and Ted departed to take care of other business. Brian held Sam back for a moment, asking if he'd like to get an early lunch. The other man was agreeable, so Brian and Sam took off.

Instead of heading to the diner, though, Brian took Sam to another of his regular haunts, but one that he knew none of his friends ever frequented. It was a nicer, Italian place that had some very attractive wait staff.

Once seated, with drinks and lunch ordered, Sam seemed to be expectantly waiting for Brian to start the conversation.

"The campaign launches in two weeks," Brian sipped his water, "are you heading back to Toronto then?"

"Probably," Sam nodded, "I've actually been talking to Jake."

"Your ex? Really?" Brian quirked an eyebrow, "Well Emmett will be disappointed."

Sam laughed.

"Though I gotta say, I'm a little surprised you're talking to him," Brian said then, honestly more than a little surprised after what Sam had told Brian about their relationship.

Sam shrugged, "I know what you're thinking. Trust me. But I wasn't kidding when I told you that I loved him. I have loved him for years and I still love him. I don't know if I trust him, but he's working to gain that back, and I feel like I owe him at least that chance."

"After what he did?" Brian didn't understand. He tried to put himself into the situation but then he realized, rather shockingly, that he had been in a very similar situation with Justin. Granted, there had been no HIV involved, and he and Justin hadn't been technically exclusive, but when he'd left Brian for the fiddler and then worked to win Brian back after they'd broken up…Brian could see how it could happen. But still – the crimes committed by Jack were so much worse.

"He's sorry. And he's struggling with his status," Sam paused at the waiter brought them their drinks.

"He's alone," Sam sipped the wine he'd ordered. "and lonely. And hurting. And as much as he hurt me I can't stand that he feels that way. Not if I can do something to help. Even if it means just being his friend. So yeah, I'll probably be going back. Plus I don't think Brown would allow me to continue to manage the finances of his company from the U.S. once the campaign launches. There'll be no reason for me stay at that point."

Brian nodded.

Sam was giving Jake another chance. Fuck – if he could forgive his ex for what he did, maybe there was hope yet for Justin to offer forgiveness to Brian.

"Is everything okay?" Sam was looking at Brian curiously, "after last night I mean?"

"Why the fuck would you say that to him?" Brian asked then, ignoring the waitress as she arrived with their orders.

Sam didn't respond until she'd gone and when he did, he seemed amused. It pissed Brian off. He didn't get this guy; forgiving his HIV spreading, cheating boyfriend, causing mayhem between Brian and Justin, allowing himself to be the target of Emmett's lustful advances.

"What? That I'd heard about him?" Sam shrugged as he mixed salad dressing into his salad.

"I thought he'd be flattered that you talked about him."

"Well he wasn't," Brian felt strangely protective all of a sudden, angry on Justin's behalf. "In fact because of your little way with words I had to tell him about your status."

Sam's fork paused midway through the air on its journey to his mouth. He stared at Brian for a moment before taking the bite and chewing, never taking his eyes off Brian.

"Good," he said, finally.

"Good? Are you fucking kidding me?" Brian, ignoring his lunch, rolled his eyes.

"Yes. Good. You should have told him from the start," Sam took another bite and chewed, a slight smile on his face.

"He has a right to know," Sam added, swallowing and taking a sip of wine. "Hell, if I'd know how to contact him right after I found out I might have told him. But-," Sam held up a hand as Brian opened his mouth to protest, "it's your business, your relationship. You can fuck it up all on your own."

Brian scowled, looking down at his plate and wishing he hadn't ordered a filet minon. It was too heavy for lunch and he knew he'd feel sluggish and lethargic all afternoon.

"Shit," Brian grumbled, stabbing at the spears of asparagus that garnished the plate.

"Do you love him?" Sam asked, and Brian nearly choked on the vegetable, only just managing to chew and swallow.

"What? What the fuck does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm guessing," Sam smiled again, pulling a hunk of bread from the basket that sat between them, "that he was angry and upset and probably withheld sex. And that he laid some pretty heavy guilt on you. Though something tells me you already feel guilty enough."

Brian sighed and rubbed at his eyes. They were starting to ache from all the eye-rolling he was doing, never mind the fact that the fucker was right. When had he become so easy to read?

"Thought so," Sam popped a piece of bread into his mouth and chewed. "If you love him, then you need to start being honest about things. You can't withhold information like this for his protection, or whatever other reason you may think you have. He's a grown man; though a young one – good on you for that – but still a man. He can make his own choices and you have to let him do that."

"Jesus fucking…," Brian fell back in his chair, "did you all have some kind of secret summit and conspire to lecture me about this?"

"Just listen to what he tells you, Brian," Sam said, all hint of teasing or amusement gone from his voice, "or you're going to lose him. Don't just hear the words he says but _listen_. I may be angry and hurt by what Jake did, but apparently he listened to what I said the last time we talked. Or argued, as it were. For the first time in a long time he's being honest with me, and I'm giving him one last chance to prove he really wants my forgiveness and my love. I may be proven wrong in the end. I don't know. But it's worth it to me. So you need to decide if Justin is worth it to you. Because, sorry to tell you, you're not always right. And I know we barely know each other but from what I've seen and heard…something tells me you don't have too many chances left with him."

"Fuck you," Brian grumbled, but there was no passion in it. Brian hated that Sam was right. It made him seethe. But it didn't change the fact that Justin was likely very near the end of his rope. He could, at any moment, stop giving Brian yet 'one more chance'. He couldn't blame the younger man…he might love Brian but Brian was certain he didn't love getting shit on, or stomped on, or fucking tossed under the proverbial bus or off the proverbial cliff. They'd stopped and started so many damn times there weren't many more lives left in the saga of Brian and Justin.

"Shit," Brian whispered under his breath as he attempted to enjoy his $50 lunch.

Soon after returning from lunch, Gina arrived with Gus in tow and they headed to Gus's appointment, then to see Lindsay. Gina stayed at Kinnetik, having brought her computer to work on her thesis while Brian dragged Gus around town. Since Brian was going to attend the official, public Babylon reopening Gina had to hang around and take Gus home after his appointment and after visiting Lindsay. Brian, if Justin didn't come to Babylon, would stay at the loft again; at least that was his plan for the moment.

Gus's sessions were private, so Brian spent the 45 minutes waiting pacing the sidewalk outside Marty Randall's office, chain smoking cigarettes as he tried to figure out how he was going to resolve things once again with Justin. Brian may do what he wanted, when he wanted, but that didn't mean he didn't care when the people he loved and cared about were angry or disappointed in him. He'd found himself, many times, begging for forgiveness (usually in a roundabout way) from Lindsay, and Michael, and Debbie…and Justin. So many times.

When Gus was done and they headed the short distance to the hospital to see Lindsay, Brian was no closer to figuring anything out.

Lindsay, struggling with painful rehabilitation while trying to stay strong for Gus, was incredibly anxious when they arrived. Brian could practically see the wildness in her eyes as she peppered their son with veiled, indirect questions, trying to gauge his mental welfare. Gus was unperturbed, and happily answered though the questions quickly bored him and he soon asked if he could draw. Brian wondered if Gus thought much more of these visits than an opportunity to color and draw. He knew Gus was always so excited to see his mother, but still a part of Brian wondered if he really understood.

"Okay," Lindsay rolled her chair closer to where Brian sat, lowering her voice so Gus wouldn't hear, "so what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong with me," Brian replied automatically, ignoring Lindsay's disbelieving scoff. He attempted to neutralize his expression, again wondering how he'd apparently become so transparent to everyone.

"Sure," she added.

"How was the opening last night?" she asked then, and Brian looked at her with a soft smile.

"Great."

"What, what happened?" Her face transformed and Brian saw frustration and sympathy mixed as she leaned back her wheelchair.

"Why do you assume something happened?"

"Because something always happens with you," she reached out and grasped his hand, "and you don't look like yourself; you look like a lost little puppy."

"Fuck you," Brian threw his head back with a sigh. A lost little puppy?

"So?"

"So? So nothing," Brian insisted, but he felt his resolve weakening significantly. Aside from Sam and Justin, he'd talked to no one at all about the HIV scare and neither Sam nor Justin were really all that sympathetic to Brian's plight. Not that they should be and not that Brian wanted sympathy, but he was beginning to feel desperate for an impartial, or somewhat impartial, outlet for his struggles and of all his friends he trusted Lindsay the most not to shoot her mouth off to anyone else. She could be discrete, and she could keep a fucking secret.

But did he want to tell her? Was it right for him to lay something like this on her, when she was still dealing with her partner's death, their son's emotional struggles, and her own crippling injuries?

Fuck.

"Nothing," Brian repeated. He couldn't tell her. Not yet, and maybe not ever. He'd have to handle it himself. It was his only option.

"Brian," she sighed his name and when he looked at her he could see she didn't believe him. But that was okay, because whether he ever talked to her about this or not, she would still be his friend, and she would still love him. She, unlike Michael or Justin or even Ted, wouldn't press him to confide in her, and at the moment Brian appreciated her respect of his privacy. She may want him to talk to her, but she'd never force the confidence.

"Rest easy, dear Wendy," Brian smiled and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her cheek, taking note of the soft sigh she gave and the lighting of her hands onto his, squeezing gently.

Brian, after taking Gus back to Kinnetik where Gina reclaimed the car and returned to the house, left the office and walked back to the loft. It was an exceptionally warm day, so by the time he reached his destination he had stripped off his suit jacket and tie and had rolled up his shirt sleeves. Still, he was very nearly drenched with sweat. The humidity mixed with the warm temperature providing some clues for the weather the city had to look forward to the rest of the summer.

Once in the loft, Brian stripped and immediately got into the shower. Babylon wouldn't be opening for another four hours, but Brian needed to meet Ted there in one hour so they could go over procedures and public safety with the manager and the staff. Most of the staff were returning so they knew how things worked but Brian wanted to reiterate the importance of keeping Babylon a safe haven – a place gays knew they could go and not worry about the violence that haunted the streets.

The entire evening was a relief because for the first time nearly all day, Brian had something to distract him from thinking about Justin.

It was 2am when Brian got back to the house. He paid the cab fare, nearly $200, and hovered outside as the yellow car drove off into the night, back to Pittsburgh. Brian had intended to stay at the loft again. When he'd called, Justin had declined to come back into town, offering to take care of Gus Saturday morning and then bring him into town later in the day as Debbie had rescheduled the family dinner for Saturday night.

Brian though, after a very, very, very successful opening night at Babylon, didn't want to stay at the loft. He felt anxious, and awkward, and unsure. He needed to reassure himself that there was still a chance he could make things right with Justin; he couldn't go another night knowing the blonde was angry with him.

Entering the house Brian found it dark, and silent. From memory, Brian shuffled through the entryway in the dark until he felt the staircase banister in his hands. As his eyes adjusted he could just make out the steps as he climbed. The night was overcast and the moon was a pale sliver, so no light illuminated the way for him. His journey to his bedroom that night felt eerily like his life the last few months – blindly wandering, hands out in front reaching for something familiar to guide him the rest of the way.

At the top of the stairs Brian sighed with relief. There was a nightlight in the hallway for Gus, and with that little bit of light Brian was able to see well enough to make it to the master bedroom unhindered.

Brian paused outside Gus's room, pressing his ear to the door before ever so gently opening it. He could just see the lump beneath the covers, and the wild brown hair of his head a giant mess, resting on the pillow. He could hear his son's heavy breaths.

Closing the door, Brian turned to face the door across the hall. Repeating the action, Brian pressed his ear to it and hearing nothing, slowly turned the knob.

"Hey," Justin's voice, speaking from the darkness, startled Brian enough he almost yelled out loud.

"Shit, you fucking scared me," Brian closed the door quickly before turning towards the bed. The TV on the wall opposite the bed was on, but the volume was muted as Brian couldn't hear it. He could however, just make out Justin in the glowing kaleidoscope of colors emanating from the screen.

The blonde was sitting up in the bed, the sheet pulled to his waist and his chest bare and smooth. Brian stared at him, rendered slightly breathless as he always was by his gorgeous skin, blonde hair and soft features.

"Hey," Brian added, smiling nervously.

"I wasn't expecting you tonight," Justin said, though Brian thought his tone indicated otherwise.

"I couldn't sleep at the loft," Brian moved into the center of the room, pulling off his sleeveless tee and kicking off his shoes.

"How was it?" Justin asked and Brian felt a surge of love for him.

"Good. The line stretched around the building. No way most of them got in tonight," Brian unbuttoned his jeans and shucked them, kicking them in the general direction of his closet where his clothes hamper was.

Justin, on the far side of the bed, was watching. His expression was impossible to decipher but when he threw back the sheet Brian accepted the unspoken invitation and slipped into bed. He needed to clean up, he was sweaty and smelled bad but first he wanted to clear some things up with Justin.

"So my mom told me," Justin said then, his face staring straight ahead at the tv. Brian saw he'd turned on the closed captioning and was watching some science fiction movie. At least he thought it was science fiction. People were running, screaming, from giant tomatoes…

"Your mom told you what?" Brian looked back at Justin.

"That she knew," Justin turned to Brian, "that you were at the hospital every night."

Brian simply nodded. So Jennifer ratted herself out.

"I appreciate you not wanting to cause any problems between my mom and I," Justin said and Brian waited for the 'but'. It never came.

"I told her about the HIV," Justin then said, surprising Brian as he felt his stomach drop and his heart leap into his throat.

"Justin," Brian bit at his lip, imagining the phone call and royal ass chewing he would be getting from Jennifer Taylor in the morning.

"I needed to talk to someone. And you can't be mad at me. We never said this was some big secret."

"She's not going to blab to Deb is she?" Brian immediately imagined going over the Debbie's for dinner the next day and everyone there staring at them as if they were already diseased. He imagined Ben showing up with books and pamphlets and advice from Buddha.

"No. My mother doesn't run to Debbie about every little thing you know," Justin answered, his tone defensive.

"So…," Brian leaned back against the pillows behind him, relaxing into the soft bed and rethinking his plan to shower before sleeping.

Justin raised his eyebrows and shook his head, "So?"

"What'd she say," Brian elaborated. He was very interested in what Jennifer Taylor might have to say about the situation and he found it curious that he was suddenly so concerned with what she thought.

"Well after her initial shock and terror, she was surprisingly calm," Justin shrugged.

"Should I expect a call from her tomorrow?" Brian asked then, half hoping she would call him. Half hoping someone would punish him, other than Justin.

"No," he said, raising his arm and changing the channel just as a giant tomato killed a screaming woman. He continued flipping through channels and Brian just watched, waiting patiently for him to continue.

"Why not?" Brian finally asked.

"Because I didn't tell her it was you," Justin said and Brian fell speechless.

"After I told her she asked if we'd…and I told her no. She doesn't even know you're involved. Other than knowing we haven't," Justin met Brian's eyes then, "you know."

"Why the fuck would you do that?" Brian finally managed to ask. It made no sense to him.

"It's just easier this way. And she doesn't know the whole story," Justin turned off the tv and the room was plunged into darkness. "I didn't tell her that the guy tested positive."

Brian's eyes slowly adjusted and he could just make out the silhouette of Justin beside him.

"Justin-," Brian started but when he felt the other man's hand land on his mouth, pressing softly, then felt his breath against his ear, he stopped.

Justin pressed soft kisses to his face and ear while his hand gently cupped his other cheek.

"Quiet," he breathed, "and go shower because you stink."

* * *

Brian woke the next morning with Justin's arm across his stomach. They had only slept – after Brian had showered of course. There had been a little kissing, some petting, but nothing more. Brian had attempted to talk to Justin more about what was going on in his head, but the younger man refused to continue the conversation. So they slept.

At breakfast, Brian sat in silence while Gus went on and on about the painting Justin was helping him with. He wouldn't show it to Brian, but he was excited to work on it some more.

Justin, only in town for another day, spent the rest of the morning with Gus in the hastily redecorated guest bedroom that Gus had claimed as his "studio", helping him do more work on the canvas.

Brian stayed downstairs, taking advantage of the alone time to run a few miles on his treadmill, and to do a few circuits on the weight lifting equipment he'd had installed in the small personal gym. It felt good to work off some of his frustrations and by the time he was done it was only a few hours until they were expected at Debbie's for dinner.

Brian showered and dressed, then helped Gus get ready while Justin cleaned up. Then the threesome loaded up into the Mercedes and headed into town. Gus was still chattering on about the painting, and Brian couldn't help but share more than one smile with Justin.

Though he'd been in town for two and a half days Justin hadn't seen Debbie yet. Thus, when they arrived the blonde was immediately pulled away from Brian and Gus and whisked into the kitchen where Debbie insisted he stay and keep her company while she finished preparing dinner. Brian settled in the living room, watching as Gus greeted his sister and they proceeded to play with some Thomas the Train toys that had been left behind at Deb's from before JR was born.

"Theodore," Brian patted the sofa and indicated for Ted to sit next to him, "how'd we do last night?"

"It was a big fat success," Ted grinned, "I don't think I've ever seen so many gays fighting to get in to the club. The receipts totaled nearly two hundred fifty thousand."

"Good," Brian smiled.

"Shit, is there nothing you can't do that doesn't make you a shit-ton of money?" Michael said from his spot in the chair opposite the sofa. Brian watched while he and Ben exchanged smiles.

"I don't do failure," Brian shrugged. He wasn't about to apologize for making money. And he wasn't about to let his friends shame him into thinking he wasn't deserving of his successes. He worked his fucking ass off for everything he had. He earned everything he got, the good and the bad.

"Tonight will only be better," Ted added.

"Will you be there?" Emmett asked.

Brian glanced towards the kitchen and caught Justin staring back at him. They locked eyes for several moments before Brian broke contact and offered Emmett a sarcastic grin.

"No," he leaned forward on the sofa and rested his chin in his hand, "I leave it to Ted here to keep things under control."

"Dinner!" Debbie's voice rang out from the kitchen and the group gathered around the table. Once again, as at Brian's, the absence of the two lesbian's was obvious. Also absent was Carl – on the overnight shift – Blake, running a meeting at the GLC – and Hunter, out having his own date night.

"To friends and family," Debbie raised her glass before they'd started eating, "and to Sunshine."

Brian smirked and raised his own glass.

"To Babylon," Emmett piped up and as Brian looked to the other man he was surprised to see the honest nature of his toast, no hint of facetiousness.

"To those who aren't here," Ben added.

There was a long pause, as if everyone was waiting to see who else would chime in and when no one did, the gathered group all chinked their glasses and drank.

There was another long pause in conversation as platters were passed and food was dished out. As everyone began to eat, the conversation slowly started to resume, beginning with Emmett who couldn't help but bring the topic back to Babylon.

"Really, Brian, it's amazing what you did," Emmett said, "you'd never know the place was practically gutted just a few months ago."

"And all the hot guys," Emmett laughed, "I swear it's like a whole boatload of hot, gay men just showed up in Pittsburgh. I've never seen most of these guys around before. I'm surprised you won't be at the club tonight, taking advantage of them."

Brian's eyes flicked to Justin, then to Gus before back to Emmett.

"I have other responsibilities now," Brian answered. He watched as Emmett's grin faded slightly.

"Of course," he replied.

Brian ignored the feel of five pairs of eyes on him.

"Justin? Michael? Ben? You guys interested in getting your groove on tonight?"

The three men all declined the invitation, much to Emmett's obvious displeasure.

"Guess you'll have to make do with Ted, honey," Debbie laughed and Emmett let out a dramatic sigh.

"Well, maybe your friend Sam will be there again," Emmett winked at Brian with a grin forming on his face.

"He was there last night and we danced for hours," Emmett leaned into the table conspiratorially.

"Yeah, I'll bet you danced," Michael piped up, shaking his head.

"We did," Emmett swayed in his chair, "he's a fabulous dancer. And so fuc-, whoops sorry kids. So hot!"

Brian felt growing discomfort as Emmett went on and on. He could feel Justin, who sat across from him at the table, staring.

"But we did only dance," Emmett sighed heavily. "Maybe tonight we'll finally do more than that."

"Don't count on it," Justin grumbled and Brian saw everyone's head turn to look at the sullen blonde.

"Why not?" Emmett's voice betrayed actual confusion and a hint of concern.

"Just," Justin looked at Brian, his expression clouding further as he shook his head, "just don't count on it."

The table fell silent then, Justin's tone bringing down the mood of the rest of the group. Brian once again felt everyone's eyes turn to him. One set of eyes in particular seemed to look more closely than the others and finally, unable to bear the weight of the stare, Brian turned and met Ben's look.

The professor simply raised his eyebrows in question, and after a long moment with no response Brian just nodded his head once then turned his attention back to his plate – though he was no longer hungry.

Conversation shifted then, Ben directing the topic towards getting an update from Justin about life in New York. Brian knew it was hard for Justin to pretend he loved it, but that's what he did. He gave everyone at the table a reason to be happy, a reason to be proud, a reason to celebrate. Brian knew the truth though, which made the evening harder to bear as it dragged on.

Finally, as the night grew late and the kids started to get tired and cranky, the dinner party broke up. Ted and Emmett took off for the club while Michael prepared JR for the short trip home. Debbie had Gus helping her clean up, which the kid did without a single complaint. Brian left Justin inside while he stepped out the front to smoke, surprised to find Ben following him out.

"So this Sam guy is your friend you told me about," Ben said.

Brian stared out into the night, blowing out a plume of smoke and neither confirming nor denying the claim.

"But you're alright?" Ben asked.

"I'm perfect," Brian mumbled, crushing his cigarette between his fingers and letting the lit ashes fall to the ground where they slowly cooled and died.

"And Justin?"

Brian turned to look at Ben, realizing the other man had connected all the dots. He was a professor but still, Brian didn't like how smart he was proving to be.

"He's fine too. So keep your fucking mouth shut," Brian said, his voice low.

"Hey, I just want to make sure everyone is okay," Ben shrugged. "But don't worry. Mouth is shut."

The front door opened then, and Michael stuck his head out, looking between Ben and Brian before speaking.

"Ready?" he finally said and Brian saw Ben nod.

Michael opened the door wider, carrying JR in his arms. Debbie appeared behind him and after giving both men kisses she stood next to Brian and they watched them walk down the sidewalk.

"I don't know what you did to Sunshine," Debbie spoke then, "but you better fucking fix it. Something is not right with that kid and I can only assume it's your fault."

Brian didn't need to look to know Debbie was eyeballing him and he didn't respond as she disappeared back into the house, shutting the door behind her.

The drive back to West Virginia was quiet. Gus fell asleep almost as soon as Brian started the car, and Justin stared out the car window – though what he was looking at Brian didn't know. The night was black, the moon still just a pale sliver that barely illuminated the sky. So Brian turned on the local jazz station and they rode in silence.

Back at the house, Brian carried Gus to his bedroom and changed him into PJ's while the kid barely woke up. Brian decided they could forgo the teeth brushing for one night, as he tucked Gus into his bed and closed his bedroom door.

The light in Brian's bedroom was on, and he could hear the television; the local news.

Justin had his duffel on the bed and was digging through it for clothes. He offered Brian what looked to be a tired smile before pulling a clean tee shirt and jeans out of the bag and tossing it to the floor.

"Are you sorry you came?" Brian asked, sinking onto the edge of the bed as Justin unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off his shoulders, tossing it on top of his duffel.

"No," he shook his head, "believe it or not."

Brian chose to believe it. Though a tiny bit of doubt still lingered.

"It didn't go quite as I'd planned," Brian said and Justin laughed.

"No shit," he sank on the bed next to Brian.

"I'm starting to understand why you pulled away, after I left the first time," Justin said, "living like this is fucking hard."

"Are you saying you want to stop this? Whatever this is?"

"No," Justin's hand reached up and found its way into Brian's hair, "I don't think that would even be possible, at least not for me. You're too much a part of me. I couldn't, and I don't want too. But neither of us are in a particularly good place right now. Maybe we just need to pause for a moment and consider the-," Justin's voice trailed off then, and his hand stilled in Brian's hair.

"Consider the-?" Brian looked at Justin and saw him staring at the television with a startled look on his face. Brian turned to the screen and for a moment couldn't quite make sense of what it was he was seeing. Slowly it registered. It was the exterior of Babylon, with police and flashing lights and a crowd gathered around a man who appeared to be covered in blood being led out in handcuffs.

"Fuck!" Brian stood and walked to the tv, turning the volume up louder.

"-and one man was arrested. If you remember, earlier this year Babylon was the site of a deadly bombing when the club was targeted as it was hosting a benefit to stop proposition 14. Four people died in that explosion and no arrests have yet been made. The gay dance club just reopened its doors last night. It remains to be seen how this latest act of violence will affect the club and its popularity, or if what happened tonight is related to the bombing."

The screen changed then, switching to the co-anchor who started talking about the latest election news.

"Fuck!" Brian said again, louder and more agitated, reaching for his cell phone intending to call Ted. He had barely pulled it from his pocket before it started ringing.

"Ted! What the fuck happened?"

* * *

Brian sat in the police station, on the opposite side of the desk from Detective Carl Horvath. The older man had just finished telling Brian the official version of events, which weren't much different much from what Ted had said over the phone.

Apparently, a very drunk, very large meathead had taken offence to Emmett refusing a dance with him. He proceeded to harass Emmett at the bar, both verbally and physically, before Sam had stepped in. That was when the very drunk, very large meathead had taken a swing at Sam with a bottle of liquor the bartender had left on the bar, cutting the man's face and spraying his blood everywhere. Several men near the bar tried to calm the very drunk, very large meathead when he started fighting back, throwing punches wildly and landing one square on Emmett's face, breaking his nose. That was when Babylon security finally made it to the scene, and tackled the guy to the ground. It took four of the security men to hold the meathead down until police arrived. All the while he struggled and fought, cutting himself on pieces of broken glass that had scattered on the floor around the bar.

Brian sat in stunned silence. He'd seen a lot of crazy shit go down at the club – but never a fight. At least not like what Carl, and Ted, had described. The meathead, likely on steroids and probably some other recreational drugs too, was currently drying out in a holding cell, secluded from the other scum that the Pittsburgh PD pulled off the streets that night.

Emmett and Sam were both at the hospital, with Ted, getting checked out and taken care of.

"Fuck," Brian shook his head and rubbed his eyes. It was nearly four in the morning and he was so fucking tired.

"What's next," Brian asked.

"Well we've drawn blood from him, Damon Critz according to his ID, so we'll find out probably tomorrow just how under the influence he was. Then it's up to Emmett and Sam to press charges or not. Or you, since he did destroy some property at the club. In front of plenty of witnesses," Carl leaned back in his chair, the springs squeaking.

"The hits never stop coming," Brian murmured before slowly standing.

"Thanks," he held out his hand to the other man, "I'm going to head to the hospital to make sure everyone's okay."

"I'll let you know when we need you for anything else," Carl said, gripping Brian's hand and nodding.

"Oh, Kinney, one more thing," Carl called out and Brian, at the door, turned back to him. "It doesn't look like this guy had anything to do with the bombing."

Brian laughed.

"Yeah, considering he was wearing leather pants and a see through, hot pink tank top, I kind of figured as much," Brian said as he turned and headed out the of the police department.

To be honest, Brian had given up any hope of the authorities finding who was responsible for the bombing. No one had claimed to be responsible, which led Brian to believe it was a personal attack and not just someone, or a group of someone's, hoping to rid the world of a few more gays. He wasn't sure which was worse…the enemy you know or the one that remained hidden. In any case, he wasn't about to let that awful event dictate how he ran things in his club – though this fight had him reconsidering how certain things were handled inside the club. And more specifically, that he needed to hire more fucking security.

By the time Brian got to the emergency room it was almost five am. He found Ted, snoozing in the waiting room. Kicking his feet, Brian smirked when the other man, a few years older than Brian and with distinctly gray hairs starting to pepper his head, snored and then started awake.

"Hey, Bri," Ted scrubbed his hands on his face and grinned bleary-eyed up at Brian.

"What's going on Theodore?" Brian sank in the chair next to him and heaved a sigh. He just wanted to fucking sleep.

"What time is it?" Ted squinted at his watch. "Fuck. Uh…let's see, Sam is getting stitched up," Ted yawned, "he has a nasty cut along his hairline. I think the doctor said thirty stitches?"

Brian whistled. That was…fuck. Not good.

"And Emmett?"

"They took him to x-ray," Ted yawned again, "his nose wouldn't stop bleeding and his face was hurting him pretty bad. They want to make sure it's just his nose that's broken and that there's no damage to his orbital bones or anything else. You should see him, Brian. Before the paramedics and police had even arrived the entire front of his shirt was bright red and both his eyes were black. He looks fucked up."

"Shit," Brian glanced towards the admissions desk. The ER was fairly quiet, for a late Saturday/early Sunday. Thankfully.

"Sam told us he's HIV positive," Ted said then, and when Brian turned to look at him he found his friend staring at him curiously. "There was a lot of blood, and I think he was scared of hurting someone. It was the first thing he screamed after the bottle smashed into his head."

"I think it scared enough guys away that it prevented more guys from getting hurt from the wild punching man, but still. His blood was everywhere," Ted pointed to his own shirt which sported several splatters that were a dark, rusty maroon color.

"I don't think there's any danger but we'll all have to be tested," Ted sighed, "that fucker who started it all, too."

Brian nodded. He'd wondered about the blood when he'd heard Carl's version of events. He was thankful that Emmett's injury was not an open wound because Brian couldn't handle being responsible for infecting one of his friends with HIV because he'd brought this man into their lives.

"I'm guessing Emmett's little man-crush has died out," Brian said then and Ted shrugged.

"I wouldn't be surprised if it did. Eventually," he kept staring at Brian curiously.

"Jesus Theodore, what?" Brian turned to him, and waited.

"Did you know?"

"About Sam? Sure," Brian played it off casually. Now that the cat really was out of the bag there was nothing much else he could do.

It seemed Ted was going to say more but that was when Emmett came walking slowly out from the curtained area. His shirt was definitely ruined, Brian thought as he and Ted both stood. The man looked awful. His eyes were lost in the depths of wide black and blue circles and his nose was swollen and covered with a splint.

"Shit, Em," Brian reached a hand out to the typically flamboyant man to steady his shoulder as he approached them, not quite stable on his feet.

"Yeah. If they could see me now," Emmett tried to smile but couldn't quite complete the action.

"I'm going to take him home," Ted moved to the other side of the taller man and without another word they slowly walked out of the hospital.

Brian sat back down, fighting exhaustion and waiting for Sam.


	14. Empty Hands

**A/N: thank you so much for all the kind reviews, I really appreciate them so very much! **

* * *

"I don't think I'll be going out again for a while," Sam grumbled, his fingers gingerly touching the bandage stretched across his temple, covering part of his hairline. Brian could see faint hints of red beginning to leak through as the wound continued to seep.

"I suppose you should give yourself at least a few days off," Brian replied.

He was driving Sam home after the other man had finally been discharged from the hospital with thirty two stitches, a prescription for some topical antibiotic cream, and strict instructions to take it easy for a few days. The doctor who had walked him out had handed Brian the script and told him to keep an eye on him, as if that was his job. Brian didn't correct him, even though he had no intention of keeping an eye on Sam. That might make him a total shit, but he wanted to get the fuck home. He needed to get the fuck home…it was Justin's last day and there was still some unfinished business between them.

Brian did take the prescription for the cream to the hospital pharmacy before he took Sam home – he figured he could do that much at least. Still it was after 6am before the prescription was even filled and Brian's patience was wearing paper thin. As he drove Sam home, the injured man expressed some concern that his car was still parked curbside at Babylon; but Brian assured him it would be fine and he'd have a couple of the Babylon security bring it to him later that afternoon.

"Alright," Sam agreed, leaning his head back against the headrest and holding the pharmacy bag in his lap. Brian steered them through the nearly deserted streets of downtown Pittsburgh, thankful for the early hour and the lack of traffic.

"Is Emmett alright?" Sam asked and Brian nodded.

"He's fine. Just a broken nose," he added.

"He should get tested anyway," Sam said softly.

"He knows," Brian replied, trying to keep his tone light knowing full well Sam was freaked out about his blood getting all over. "And the hospital gave him some meds. He'll be fine."

"Maybe I should keep my distance from your friends," Sam said, and Brian definitely detected a note of embarrassment and shame in his voice.

"That's your call," he shook his head as he briefly met the eyes of the other man, "but everyone understands. It's no big deal. Fuck, Mikey's hubby is positive."

"What?"

"Yeah," Brian turned into the parking garage beneath the high rise apartment building where Sam was renting a one-bedroom. He realized he'd never extended Ben's invitation and since Sam appeared quite freaked out about his injury, now seemed like the perfect time.

"His name is Ben Bruckner, he's an English professor at Carnegie Mellon," stopping in the middle of the driveway of the parking garage Brian unbuckled his seatbelt and pulled out his wallet, thumbing through the small stack of cards he carried until he found Ben's. "I've told him about you, generally speaking of course, but if you want or need to talk he'll be happy to listen."

Sam took the card without a word.

Brian shoved his wallet into a compartment in the center console, "Can you get upstairs okay?"

Sam nodded and opened the door, smiling tiredly at Brian, "thanks for the ride."

With nothing more than a very slight nod in return, Brian watched him disappear inside before, fighting against descending fatigue, beginning the long drive back to the damn country house. Well past exhaustion, he was to the point where everything he saw, and heard, and did felt heightened. His senses seemed sharper, yet dulled at the same time. It was how he remembered feeling in his younger days when he'd stay out too late, take too many drugs, and drink too many shots of Beam. It was a feeling he remembered hating and though he knew he was neither drunk nor high he also knew it still wasn't safe or smart for him to be driving.

But he had to get back. Justin was returning to New York later in the day and they had so many things to figure out…or not. He didn't really know anymore, all the conversations they'd had the last few days suddenly were jumbled and confused in his head. What he did know was he had to get back.

Just under thirty minutes later he sped up the long drive of the house, thankful he'd made it back in one piece. He had intended to call Justin while on the road to let him know he was finally on his way back but when he checked his phone he saw it was dead. He didn't have a car charger – he'd never needed one before – but after having been on the go for nearly 24 hours of course his phone was now dead.

So Brian wasn't sure what he'd find when he got home; he certainly didn't expect to find Justin sitting in the living room, looking like he too hadn't gotten much sleep, while clutching the house phone in his hand.

"Hey," Brian kicked off his shoes and fell with a sigh onto the sofa next to Justin.

"You look like shit," Justin said.

"Feel like it, too," Brian replied.

"Gus still asleep?" he asked and Justin nodded.

"What's with the phone?"

Justin shook his head, reaching to his side and setting the handset on the small end table.

"It started ringing about an hour ago," he yawned, "reporters."

Brian scrubbed his face and yawned himself, groaning. It was like after the bombing, he could see it now. The club was already infamous for that horrifying act of violence. It certainly didn't need this additional attention. Everything he had done to secure the club, to make sure it was a safe place for queers to be themselves had been for nothing. Not that he could have known anything like what had happened would happen. Still, the fact that there were violent fags throwing bottles and punches didn't bode well for the club. He was certain the morning paper would feature more than one editorial condemning the club and its patrons for their "lewd and immoral behavior", to quote an oft-used line spouted by those who hated everything about Liberty Avenue and its patrons. Once again, people would be calling for more regulation and restriction on Liberty Avenue. And that was a joke - fights happened all the time in hetero clubs and bars and they weren't featured on the news every time.

"Shit," Brian sighed, the weight of the situation settling on him, adding to everything else. If anything more were to happen he was afraid he might be crushed…

"How's Em?" Justin shifted on the sofa, turning sideways and resting his head on the back cushion.

Brian, stretching his legs out in front of him, turned his head to the side to meet Justin's gaze.

"Broken nose. He looks pretty beat up, but he'll be okay."

Justin sighed with apparent relief and Brian just waited, wondering if he'd ask about the other man who'd been injured. After Ted's call, Brian had relayed the story as he'd hastily changed into a new pair of jeans and a tee shirt. Justin had wanted to come with him – Emmett was his friend after all – but his stubborn determination to accompany Brian disappeared when Brian asked him to stay with Gus. Justin simply kissed him chastely on the corner of his mouth before Brian ran from the house, speeding once more back towards Pittsburgh and Liberty Avenue.

"And Sam?"

His tone didn't quite reflect any sincerity and Brian barely suppressed a smile before answering. He was asking out of politeness and obligation and for whatever reason that amused Brian in his near delirious state. Justin really had no reason to dislike Sam, aside from the HIV but really that was Brian's fault more than Sam's… Swallowing a laugh before it could escape his lips and irritate the tired blonde next to him, Brian gave a half-hearted shrug.

"Nasty gash across his hairline, thirty two stitches," he watched as Justin's face registered his shocked reaction, his blue eyes widening slightly.

"Shit."

"I should call the cleaning service for the club, make sure they can properly handle the blood clean up," Brian groaned again, sitting forward and reaching an arm out for the phone.

Justin twisted and retrieved the handset, placing it in Brian's hand before standing.

"I'll make some coffee," he leaned down and pressed a light kiss on Brian's lips, "and some breakfast. Which you're eating. No arguments."

Brian offered a slight smirk, watching as Justin walked across the room towards the kitchen before dialing the cleaning service the club used. As it was so early on a Sunday morning there was no answer so Brian simply left a message with the general details, leaving them the number of the club manager to call if there were further questions or if they couldn't handle the cleanup. Brian then called Alanzo, waking him up but not apologizing for it. He informed his club manager of the cleanup and Alanzo assured Brian it would be done, one way or another, before the club opened again that night.

Relieved that at least was taken care of, Brian sank back into the cushions desperately trying to keep his eyes open but finding not even the wafting aroma of the brewing gourmet coffee could keep him awake. He barely had time to wonder if Babylon would bounce back from this latest brush with headline news before he passed out from exhaustion, the phone still clutched loosely in his hand.

He was awoken a little while later by the same phone. It rang three times, startling him from a vaguely familiar dream that almost immediately upon waking began to fade from his memory. It was something to do with Justin, and dancing, and they were laughing… It wasn't the prom dream though, because it wasn't tinted red and Brian didn't feel lingering paralyzing fear. Still, try as he might he couldn't place it, and then it was gone.

"Daddy are you done napping?" Gus's voice spoke, startling Brian as he whipped his head to the side to see his son still in his pajamas and with a wildly messy head of hair, sitting at the end of the sofa with a coloring book in his lap and crayons scattered around him.

"Hey Sonny-boy," Brain leaned over and pinched lightly at his son's bare feet, grinning at the giggle Gus let escape his lips.

"Justin said I had to be quiet and wait for your nap to be over," Gus shifted, tucking his bare feet under him so Brian couldn't get to them. "Is your nap over?"

"I think so," Brian smiled. He actually felt worse than before he'd fallen asleep and he wondered if he would be able to convince Gina to watch Gus for the evening. It was technically her day off, but Brian wasn't entirely sure he could make it all day without another nap.

Checking the wall clock he sighed. It was almost 10am. Justin had to be at the airport no later than 1pm. They didn't have much time left.

"Did you eat breakfast?" Brian asked.

"I waited for you," Gus said with a shake of his head.

"Well let's go," Brian stood slowly, groaning as his stiff muscles protested the movement. He could hear Gus's padded footsteps following behind him as he made his way into the kitchen.

As Brian entered the kitchen the aroma of coffee and bacon set his mouth to watering. Heading straight for the coffee maker he poured a cup, savoring the aroma.

"You're awake," Justin's voice spoke from behind Brian.

"He waked up on his own," Gus piped up.

Brian turned and smiled. Leaning casually against the counter he looked at Justin sitting at the table in the breakfast nook, the Sunday newspaper lay open before him.

"Well?" Brian nodded towards the paper.

"Nothing," Justin shrugged, standing and coming into the kitchen, taking a plate out of the oven and exposing a giant pile of crispy bacon.

Brian raised his eyebrows in question and Justin just shrugged. Brian wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth so he accepted that maybe a fight in a gay club wasn't as big of a news story now as it might have been a few years ago.

"Bacon!" Gus exclaimed, hands reaching up and grabbing several pieces before he trotted over to the table and sat down, munching happily.

Brian bit his lips to keep from laughing, but met Justin's amused gaze, sharing the moment.

"Who was on the phone?" Brian asked, sipping his coffee.

"Ted," Justin walked the plate of bacon to the table, "I told him you'd call him back later."

Brian nodded, sipping his coffee as he watched Gus stuff an entire strip of bacon into his mouth.

"I'll make some eggs," Justin was at his side now, pushing Brian gently towards the table. "Go sit."

"Yes sir," Brian said, gently swatting Justin's rear before he joined his son at the table. He occupied the spot Justin had just vacated and passed Gus the Sunday comics while he turned to the business section, intent to check out his stock options and get a general idea on how his portfolio was performing.

Not too long after sitting, Justin appeared before him and Gus with steaming plates of scrambled eggs. He set them down then retreated only to return with the coffee pot, topping off Brian's cup, as well as a glass of orange juice for Gus.

"I'm going to go shower and get my stuff put together," Justin said then and Brian, almost reflexively, felt his head whip up sharply.

"We have to leave in just over an hour," Justin said softly, his smile tight and Brian thought it betrayed the same ache he felt.

"Do you have to go?" Gus said then, his big brown eyes staring at Justin as well.

"Sorry, buddy," Justin's hand ruffled the little boy's hair and Brian felt his heartache increase exponentially, "I do."

"But I'll see you again," Justin crouched down so he was eye level with Gus, "I promise."

Brian bit his tongue, watching Gus nod. It was an important promise Justin was making, and Brian hoped the younger man would be able to keep it. For Gus's sake.

When Justin came back downstairs twenty minutes later, Brian sent Gus up to get dressed and brush his teeth and his hair.

After the little boy had left the kitchen Brian stared at Justin, unsure of what to do next. He knew what he wanted to do – he wanted to throw the other man across the table and fuck him senseless. But that wasn't an option. At least not at the moment – regardless of Gus's presence in the house, Brian's behavior the last few months precluded him from having any right or access to Justin's body, no matter how badly he might want it.

"So what happens next," Justin said, a slight smile on his face that confused Brian.

"Well," Brian stood from the table and moved towards the coffee maker, refilling his mug, "you go back to New York and try to become a fucking success."

"And then what," Justin said. "What about us? Where do we go from here?"

Brian turned to face Justin, not answering because he didn't have any answers to give and no matter how much he might want to reassure Justin, he wouldn't make any statements or promises he wasn't certain he could keep.

Justin held Brian's gaze for several minutes before he nodded. Brian knew he understood.

"I think going back to New York will be good," Justin moved closer to Brian, pressing his body against him and wrapping his arms around Brian's waist, "but I still want this. You. Even though I'm still fucking pissed at you."

Tilting his head up, Justin pressed soft kisses along Brian's jaw.

Brian, calling on all his will-power to stop himself from ripping Justin's clothes off, closed his eyes and blindly setting the mug on the countertop behind him. Reaching his long arms around Justin he pulled him tighter to him. Lowering his head, he buried his nose in the crook of the blonde's neck before breathing deeply, memorizing the scent of him. For some reason Brian was afraid this would be the last time he'd see Justin. He didn't consciously realize that each time Justin left he felt this same way and he definitely didn't realize that so far he'd been wrong each time; he'd always seen Justin again.

"Daddy!" Gus's yell echoed and the two men pulled apart reluctantly.

Brian offered a soft laugh before Gus came running into the kitchen.

"Come look!"

Gus grabbed his hand and began pulling Brian from the kitchen.

"What are we looking at?" Brian asked, following his son with Justin trailing behind him.

"Look!" Gus pulled Brian into the living room where he'd spent the morning napping and there, on the sofa, was a painting.

It was obviously not one of Justin's, but rather the one Justin had helped Gus to do. And though it was very, very rough (it was painted by a four year old after all) Brian could also see hints of real talent that if fostered could mean his son might have a bright future as an artist, too. The painting itself was a copy of the one Justin had done of Brian and Gus – but this time from the hands, and perspective, of a child.

Brian let his eyes move from Gus to the small canvas and back again. His son was so damn proud, his face beaming as he gazed at Brian, his expression full of hope.

"This is fantastic Gus," Brian leaned down and hoisted Gus into his arms.

He felt a wave of emotion wash over him as he held Gus, feeling Justin's hand light on his lower back. Turning to look at the younger man Brian let himself, for just a moment, wish he hadn't been so damn adamant about Justin leaving. He allowed himself, just for a moment, to wish he could just ask Justin to stay. It felt right having his son and man he loved both there with him, in their home. It was wrong that Justin had to go.

But he did.

There was too much riding on the importance of Justin finding his own way and Brian couldn't and wouldn't stand in his way, no matter how much he wanted it and no matter how much it hurt to let the younger man leave once again. He had to keep reminding himself of this.

"I'm going to hang it in my office at work," Brian grinned, turning his attention back to Gus and feeling his heart swell with a love he had never imagined possible for him to feel, Gus grinning back at him.

"Justin showed me all the good ways to paint," Gus turned serious as he proceeded to explain to Brian how Justin had helped him.

"Justin's a good teacher," Brian winked at Gus before looking once more at Justin.

Justin was a good teacher. Brian may have taught Justin ways to pleasure a man's body, but Brian was 100% certain it was Justin who had taught him, by example and by his persistent and stubborn nature, that he was capable of giving love, of being in love, and of accepting love from others. Brian wasn't so sure he'd have ever learned any of those particular lessons if not for the relentlessness of the blonde that was now standing next to him with a soft smile on his face.

Brian felt Justin's hand lightly swat his rear and he let out a small laugh. For the shit-storm of the last day or so, he suddenly felt at ease and possibly, maybe, things would be okay. Justin may still be angry and upset with him, but he was also still in love with him and as long as Brian could fuel the feelings of love so they were stronger than the anger, he thought he'd be okay.

Many (or most, really) of the bad decisions Brian had made the last few months hadn't been made on purpose. He'd never set out to hurt Justin and he certainly didn't want to push him away – at least not any more. That option disappeared the moment Brian heard Justin's voice on the phone when he called him with the news of the accident. As he had known it would – which was why he'd never called him before then. Justin was like a drug. Without exposure or access Brian could wean himself but when he was given access and exposure he was a lost cause. A Justin-junkie so to speak.

"It's getting late," Justin said then, his voice soft and his expression apologetic. Brian could still feel his hand on his lower back, the pressure increasing slightly before Justin took a step back and broke contact.

"Yeah," Brian nodded and set Gus down.

"Go get in the car Sonny-boy," Brian watched as Gus took off from the room.

"Sorry," Justin said and Brian arched an eyebrow.

"What for?"

Shaking his head, Justin just smiled.

Brian turned to face Justin, raising his hands to gently grip each side of other man's face. He wasn't sure when he'd see Justin again, they hadn't talked about it. All he knew was he felt compelled to memorize his every feature. Not that he didn't have every square inch of Justin's body committed to memory already…

"Brian-," Justin started but Brian silenced him with a soft kiss that slowly morphed into something more tender and loving. When Brian broke contact he simply led Justin out of the house and to the car.

Neither man spoke again until they were nearly to the airport. Not that it mattered as Gus kept up a steady stream of chattering, telling Brian and Justin all about the different things he wanted to paint now that Justin had taught him a few basic techniques.

Brian let his hand rest in Justin's lap, the other man gripping it between both his hands while he occasionally ran his thumb across the skin on the back. They would share the occasional smile when Gus would say something particularly amusing but other than that they were silent.

At the airport, Justin's departure finally hit Gus and he grew upset. Brian had decided not to park and escort Justin into the terminal, instead dropping him off at Departures and now he wished he'd parked. Gus was crying uncontrollably, eliciting looks from other travelers being dropped off unceremoniously at the curb. His tiny arms were wrapped tightly around Justin's neck and his cries only increased in volume when Brian tried to gently pull him from Justin's embrace. It was heartbreaking and horrifying and Brian made a mental note to call Marty Randall the following day to let him know about the scene in case it might be a potential setback.

Brian, when he finally pulled Gus away from Justin and got him back into the car, took his turn to say what he hoped was yet another temporary goodbye to Justin.

"Will he be okay?" Justin was peering into the car with obvious concern on his face.

"I'll make sure," Brian peered in, then looked away quickly. It was hard to see his son so upset.

Justin straightened and faced Brian. He had a strange expression on his face and Brian suddenly felt a little nervous.

"I tried to say this last night," Justin started, shifting on his feet as he glanced around them before meeting Brian's gaze again. "But you got the call about Babylon and then it didn't seem appropriate this morning…"

"Okay," Brian said slowly, his heart pounding in his chest. He hated when Justin got this way – it never seemed to bode well for them and it always ended up with Brian feeling hurt and like he'd done something wrong and disappointed him – which usually was the case.

"I think we each need to focus on ourselves for a little while," Justin reached out a hand, grasping one of Brian's.

"You need to concentrate on Gus, and I need to concentrate on myself and my art. I need to figure out what the hell I'm doing and I need to make sure I don't sabotage myself in New York. I want to really try and make something happen – no matter that I'll fucking miss you like crazy. And after all the drama of this weekend I think the space might be good for us right now, too."

Brian wanted to laugh. Justin was right and his reasons were sound – especially the part about him possibly self-sabotaging because if he were too distracted by missing Brian he might not try as hard to find success – and that would be as bad as just giving up altogether.

Brian also did need to focus on Gus; and Lindsay. It was likely she'd be coming home sometime in July and there were many things he needed to do to prepare.

"Okay. If you say so," Brian replied. It was strange – it felt like they were breaking up, but yet they weren't. Brian was beginning to realize with each goodbye he said to the blonde, how much having him in his life kept him grounded and sane. And he wasn't about to give that up.

Justin's face betrayed his own fear at the prospect of taking an intentional break from each other and Brian tried to offer a reassuring smile. They held each other's gaze for several minutes, just staring while their hands and fingers intertwined. Finally, Justin pulled away and with one last smile, he disappeared into the airport.

Ten minutes later Brian and Gus were back on the highway, returning to the house in West Virginia. Both of them sad and upset and missing Justin, but only one of them was showing it outright.

* * *

Monday morning, the day after Justin returned to New York, Brian turned up to The Liberty Diner for some coffee and maybe a quick meal, finding his small group of friends sitting together in a booth.

Brian approached them, calling out to the new waiter for some coffee to-go before falling onto the bench and nudging Michael over, forcing his friend to practically sit on Ben's lap. The foursome, who had been laughing, quickly fell silent upon Brian's arrival.

"What?" Brian asked, accepting his ordered cup of coffee without a glance at the waiter.

Brian looked at the faces of his friends; Michael, Ben, Ted and Emmett, all them staring at him with…was it pity? Sympathy? Regret? Well fuck that, he didn't any of it from any of them.

"Just talking about the club last night," Emmett said. His face was a kaleidoscope of blues and greens, the bruises around his eyes and nose seeming to shift and change even as Brian looked at him. That, in conjunction with the swelling, rendered the man practically unrecognizable.

Brian raised his eyebrows towards Ted.

"Yeah," Ted sat up straighter and nodded, "it was another record night. Seems the little scuffle on Saturday didn't have much of an effect on the crowds. Babylon is still the place to be."

Brian sipped his coffee as he nodded. He didn't believe them, of course. At least he didn't believe that they'd been talking about the club. He would bet his entire net worth on the fact that there was no way Emmett would have gone out dancing looking like he did. No - Brian had a feeling what they had really been talking about was Sam, and by extension Brian. With a quick warning glance at Ben to let him know to keep his fucking mouth shut, Brian stood. He'd eat an apple at the office; he didn't want or need to be subjected to the pitying looks his friends were currently giving him. Pulling out his wallet he tossed a five dollar bill on the table and walked out of the diner.

He was halfway across the street, where his car was parked, when he felt a hand on his upper arm pulling him. Once safely on the other side of the street Brian came to a stop and turning, he found himself face to face with Michael. He wasn't surprised. Leave it to his best friend to insist on following; no doubt his intent to ask questions that Brian didn't want asked; ever.

"What is it, Mikey. I have a successful business to run," Brian said, his right hand clutching his coffee a little tighter than was necessary while Michael's hand grasped Brian's bicep.

"Did you fuck him?"

"To whom are you referring," Brian asked slowly, partly so he could enjoy making his friend uncomfortable and partly to try to deflect the question and avoid altogether the discussion he knew was coming.

"You know who," Michael said with obvious exasperation, "Sam."

It was straight and to the point and for a brief moment Brian was proud of his friend for showing some balls. But that swell of pride was simply a momentary flash, quickly replaced by dread. This was exactly the kind of conversation he wanted to avoid because just like when Michael found out about his cancer, if he thought Brian might be sick he'd become a little mother, hovering over him and Brian didn't want or need that from him or anyone else.

Of course he didn't have to answer the question at all. It was after all none of Michael's business who Brian fucked; he didn't owe anyone except Justin any explanations. But Brian also knew that wasn't how Michael saw things and honesty was just easier at this point. It was too hard to keep pretending and lying and Brian was too fucking tired to play any more games.

"Well?"

Brian rolled his lips into his mouth as he nodded slowly, watching as Michael's expression fell, his eyes clouding with concern and worry.

"Did you know?" Michael asked.

"Did I know he was positive when I fucked him?"

Michael nodded and Brian offered a mirthless laughed, walking the short distance to his car.

"Fuck you Mikey," Brian said. He actually felt slightly offended that Michael would think that of him. "No."

"Well I don't know," Michael said sounding defensive, "I feel like I barely know who you are anymore."

"I wouldn't do that to-," Brian started but quickly realizing he was about to out Justin he bit back the words. It was too late though and Michael picked up on it, being far more perceptive than he usually was.

"To Justin?"

Brian rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh, not giving any more of an answer than that as he opened his car door and set his coffee in one of the cup holders in the center console.

"Jesus, Brian," Michael's hand reached out and pulled at Brian's arm so they were once again face to face.

"Are you…?"

"No, Michael, I'm not. And neither is Justin. We've tested negative twice now," Brian sighed, rubbing his free hand across his eyes. He was still so fucking tired. He'd had to stay up with Gus all day after taking Justin to the airport, and he'd been haunted by restless sleep through the night. All he wanted to do at this point was get to work and lose himself in the stack of accounts on his desk. And a part of him found it ridiculous that he was using his work to escape his reality.

"Was there something else?" Brian leveled his eyes at Michael, not bothering to hide his annoyance. He could see Michael struggling with himself, likely weighing the risks of aggravating Brian by asking more questions versus letting him go.

"No," Michael finally sighed, letting go of Brian's arm and taking a step back.

"Good. And please keep your fucking mouth shut," Brian gave Michael a stiff smile before climbing into his car and speeding the short distance to Kinnetik, pushing all thoughts of Michael, and Justin, and Sam, and everyone out of his mind.

* * *

It had been just over four months since the car accident. Lindsay had been through two surgeries, one for her critical injuries from the accident and another to attempt to repair the fracture to her lumbar spine. A few days post her second surgery she began the rehabilitation process with physical therapy. She, and Brian, had been told that though the surgery had been as much of a success as it could possibly be, it would be a long, hard road to recover and there was no guarantee she'd ever regain any feeling or movement below her waist. Still, Lindsay worked hard and tirelessly and the doctors were impressed with her determination. Brian wasn't as surprised as they seemed to be, though. He knew his friend and when Lindsay wanted something, she worked as hard as she could to get it. She always had. It was one of the things that Brian loved about her – one of the things that he first noticed about her when they first met in college. She may have been raised a country club wasp, but she was fierce, and loyal, and strong when she had to be.

Brian and Gus's visits always coincided with the long break Lindsay had between her morning and afternoon physical therapy sessions and though she undoubtedly was tired and sore she never let on. Brian would never know the struggle she was fighting internally if he wasn't so adept at reading her expressions. She maintained a strong front, with smiles and positive affirmations but Brian could see her starting to crumble under the emotional stress. Everyone had a breaking point and Brian worried Lindsay's was fast approaching.

Her progress had stalled. After regaining some sensation in her hips and upper legs as well as being able to very slightly wiggle her toes there'd been no more improvement for almost three weeks. Both Brian and Lindsay had tried very hard not to expect a miracle, but even Brian had to admit that after she'd first moved her toes he had felt an immediate hope and expectation that she would soon be up and walking again. Lindsay's own expectations were likely even higher. Yet nothing remotely close to that had occurred. As such, Lindsay's mood was becoming more sour and morose with each passing day. She was still able to put on a front for Gus, but Brian was beginning to sense that Gus could see through it too; his excitement at visiting his mother each afternoon was beginning to wane while his enthusiasm for drawing and coloring instead of talking to Lindsay was increasing in response.

A few days after Brian's confrontation with Michael, he arrived at the hospital, Gus in tow, to find Lindsay very obviously upset about something. Brian, who had come intending to fill Lindsay in on his own drama, decided to save it for another day, hoping no one else (namely Michael or Ben) had filled her in on the gossip before he could reassure her that so far, he and Justin were okay. He sent Gus over to his usual spot under the windows to color, trying to offer his concerned son some reassurance that his mother was okay. He then turned Lindsay's face away from Gus and pulling a chair as close to her as possible, he simply rested his hands on her knees until she calmed enough to tell Brian what was wrong.

Finally, roughly ten minutes later, she was finally composed enough to relay to Brian what had happened.

"Shit, I'm sorry," she said first, covering her face with her hands.

"What are you sorry for? Being upset? I'd say you're allowed," Brian said, reaching out to gently pull her hands from her face.

"Michael was just here with JR," Lindsay smiled, "she seems to still remember me, even though they only bring her once a week and even though they never stay very long."

Brian felt a wave of anger at Michael and Ben for being so stingy with bringing JR to visit. It was summer after all and Ben wasn't teaching so it wasn't like they didn't have time and opportunity to bring her more often.

"When they got ready to leave today after only fifteen minutes, I asked Michael if maybe he could bring her around more often," Lindsay's eyes welled up again and though her voice wavered, she maintained some control. "She looks more and more like Mel every day and I just…I need to see her and hold her, you know? I miss that baby girl like crazy."

Brian nodded, thinking he was finally seeing where this was going. Lindsay had never been able to properly mourn the loss of her partner and seeing the baby, an image of her mother Brian had to agree, was probably stirring some deep emotions within her.

"He said he wasn't sure he could," Lindsay's face twisted as she spoke, "then he said he was going to petition to regain sole custody of her and he didn't want to confuse her or upset her by visiting me too often."

"He…what?" Brian was caught completely off guard.

"He said-," Lindsay took a deep breath, steadying her voice, "he said since he never officially signed away his parental rights that he had every right to keep her. As her biological father."

Brian stared at Lindsay, truly speechless.

"He's right of course, I mean he is her father but-," Lindsay added, pausing to sigh, "I would never keep her from him, but she's my daughter too! I raised her for almost the entire first year of her life!"

Lindsay did lose control then, tears starting to fall once more down her flushed cheeks.

"She's the last part of Melanie that I have," Lindsay turned to look over her shoulder, "and she's Gus's sister."

Brian's eyes shifted to his son. He was coloring, as he always did when they visited, and seemingly oblivious to the emotional turmoil his mother was in. Brian felt then a little guilty. He'd been negligent in taking Gus to visit his sister with any regularity, having done it only four or five times since they'd come back from Toronto. In fact, Gus had stopped even asking if they could go see JR and suddenly the impact of that hit Brian. It was another loss, but this time one he'd personally inflicted on his son. JR was now another person basically gone from his life, suddenly and without explanation. He would have to remedy that, and also have a talk with Mikey about what exactly he was doing to Lindsay.

"I'll talk to him," Brian said solemnly.

"I just want her in my life," Lindsay said almost desperately, "I just want her to call me mommy and I want her to know her mother as I knew her. I just need….I need to be in her life. For me. And for her. And for Mel."

* * *

Brian struggled to finish his workday after his visit with Lindsay. He tried calling Michael, getting voicemail which he suspected he might. Brian was sure his best friend was expecting Brian to confront him about what he'd said to Lindsay. He just hoped they could handle it more maturely than when they'd dealt with this very similar issue all those months ago…

When he got home from work that evening he could hear splashing and the echoes of Gus's laughter from the backyard. With a smile he started towards the rear of the house pausing briefly to thumb through the stack of mail on the table near the stairs. There were several magazines at the bottom of the hefty stack – research of the competition – but there was also a manila envelope with Justin's handwriting on it.

Brian opened the envelope immediately and pulled out what he saw to be the most recent issue of Rage. He looked at the cover, smiling as he always did when he saw himself mirrored in the striking features of the dashing gay crusader, but this time he also felt a sense of unease at the image portrayed. The cover showed Rage with his eyes fixed hypnotically on a tall, dark stranger whose face was in shadow. Behind Rage and some distance away were JT and Zephyr, both reaching out to him, both looking distressed, and both seeming to try to pull Rage away from the shadowy figure. The implications of the emotions behind the image were not lost on Brian and he didn't have to think very hard to know where the inspiration for it had come from. Brian had done a lot of walking away from Justin lately; it was only natural that the other man would channel his frustrations into his art. Isn't that what he'd said before he'd left? That Brian was his inspiration? Good or bad, it appeared to certainly be true.

There was a notecard sticking out the top of the comic, and Brian, feeling more and more uncomfortable the longer he stared at the image on the cover, pulled it out and read Justin's small chicken scratch.

_This was written and illustrated several months ago and sent to publish before things changed – and before we could change it – so please don't misunderstand its meaning. We may have based Rage on you, but you are __not__ Rage, and this is __not__ meant to reflect on us._

_I love you, _

_Justin_

Brian closed his eyes and let his head fall back as he sighed. He understood what Justin meant, and he knew that while both Justin and Michael pulled aspects of their personal lives into the stories they wrote for Rage, Brian couldn't help but feel like this was a subtle (or not so subtle) way for Justin to let him know how much he was hurting from Brian's recent behavior. And Brian didn't need reminded. He knew perfectly well how much he'd hurt Justin.

Brian set the comic back on the table and headed out to the pool. He always enjoyed reading the latest adventures of Rage, Zephyr and JT but wasn't sure he could read this new issue – at least not yet. He didn't need to see, in painful imagery, how the things he'd done the last several months had hurt the only person other than Gus that he'd give up his life for.

He really didn't.

* * *

Brian attempted many times to reach Michael over the next couple days, only getting the other man's voicemail at each attempt. He left a variety of messages, ranging from cordial and non-specific to aggressive and very specific.

It was Sunday afternoon and he was sitting out by the pool tanning and watching Gus splash around, playing with the floating basketball hoop he'd purchased the day before, when Michael finally called Brian back.

Examining the caller ID on his cell, Brian answered with a grim smile on his face.

"Mikey," he said, closing his eyes and letting the warmth of the sun's rays sooth him from spinning out of control. He wanted to remain as unemotional as possible.

"Hey," Michael's tone was hesitant and immediately Brian felt his own defensiveness start to grow. He could immediately sense this wasn't going to go well.

"I've been calling and calling," Brian said and he heard Michael sigh on the other end of the phone.

"I know. Look, Bri-," Michael started but Brian quickly cut him off. Something in Michael's tone had triggered Brian and he was in full-on Lindsay-defense mode now.

"No, you look Mikey. What the fuck are you doing telling Lindsay you're going to take her daughter away from her? While she's laid up, probably permanently paralyzed?"

"I'm not taking her away I'm just…she's my daughter and I want her with me," Michael responded. Brian thought he heard a trace of desperation in his tone.

"She's Lindsay's daughter too, Michael," Brian hoped his use of his friend's full name would send the message he intended. That he thought Michael was being a complete shit. "She fucking raised her for the first year of her life."

"I know," Michael said softly.

"So what the fuck are you doing this for?"

"Because she's my daughter. She's my blood. She belongs with me," Michael replied, suddenly sounding stronger and more decisive.

"Lindsay can visit, whenever she wants," he added.

"How very generous of you," Brian replied, his voice thick with sarcasm.

"And what about Lindsay? She lost her partner and now is going to lose her daughter? Don't you give a fuck about her and what she might need? Or what about JR? How are you possibly going to help her know Melanie when you barely spent any time with her over the years? Lindsay may not be blood-related but she is the only mother JR has left, and the only person who can and should help JR to know her birth mother."

Through his rant, Brian had slowly sat up from the lounge chair and was now leaning forward, the phone pressed tightly to his ear. He could hear Michael's slow, steady breathing through the line.

"What if it were Gus," Michael said then, and there was no mistaking the tightly controlled anger in his voice.

"What?"

"What if Lindsay had died, Melanie was injured and in physical therapy, and you were taking care of Gus until Mel was better. Are you telling me, as Gus's biological father you wouldn't do whatever you could to keep him with you? Are you telling me you would gladly share custody with Melanie? Or give him back to her altogether?"

Brian wanted to laugh. It was a ridiculous scenario and while Brian could see the point Michael was trying to make, the situations were not in the least bit similar.

"Not the same thing," Brian responded and he heard Michael laugh though the sound had no humor in it.

"Right," Michael said before sighing. "Look, this is what I'm doing. I'm sorry you can't support me but I suppose I should have known you wouldn't, taking into account our history in this arena."

"Fuck you, Mikey," Brian spat, "this isn't a competition for who is my favorite friend. I would be doing the same for you if the situation were reversed."

"Yeah. You've said that before," Michael replied.

It wasn't lost on Brian the similarity between the current situation and the one from many months before. And it wasn't lost on Brian that once again he was choosing to help Lindsay. But he also was speaking the truth when he told Michael that if the situations were reversed he'd help him. It just happened Brian thought Michael in the wrong, and taking JR away from Lindsay was a terrible idea.

"Look, I gotta go. JR is waking up from her nap soon," Michael said and before Brian could even open his mouth to reply the line was silent and his friend was gone.

"Fuck," Brian whispered, leaning back in the chair and feeling a headache coming on.

* * *

The next couple weeks were busy for Brian. He and his employees were ramping up the preparations for the White Water Pale Ale campaign launch. He found himself working longer hours and coming home later and later at night. He offered Gina a bonus for her extra time and promised Gus that they'd spend some time together once the ad preparations were done and he was less busy.

He still managed to visit Lindsay each day, and tried not to take it personally when she became emotionally distraught when he relayed his conversation with Michael and then gave her the news of Michael's intentions. Brian promised he'd continue to help her and encouraged her to not give up hope. It might take some time, but Brian would make sure Lindsay would remain legally a part of JR's life, even if it was the last thing he did.

Then one afternoon when Brian and Gus arrived to visit Lindsay he was surprised when she asked him about Babylon.

It would seem Ted and Emmett had come to visit the day before and upon seeing Emmett's still colorfully bruised and swollen face they had to tell her about the fight at the club. She hadn't heard of it on the news (Brian was glad) and she was a little irritated that Brian had neglected to let her know that one of her dearest friends had been so injured.

Brian waited for her to ask about Sam and the HIV but she didn't, which led Brian to believe that both Ted and Emmett had left the other man out of the story altogether. Brian was incredibly thankful because he still didn't think it was right to lay his ongoing health scare at Lindsay's feet. Not when she was now dealing with this stupid custody crap.

So Brian had to reassure Lindsay that the club was indeed safe, that there had been no incidents after that one, and that he no longer spent much time there – leaving the day to day operations up to Ted and the club manager. She seemed appeased by that knowledge – voicing her concerns that he was all Gus had at the moment and he needed to be careful always. She also warned Brian not to keep important things like what happened to Emmett from her. She wanted to know when her friends were hurt or in pain.

Brian swallowed his own confession – certain she'd take back that sentiment if she had to worry about HIV, too.

To say Brian's life was incredibly busy and complicated over those two weeks would have been an understatement. The upside of remaining so busy was that it provided for little time to think about other things, like Justin. Brian had the latest issue of Rage, still unread, on his nightstand and he saw it each night before he went to sleep. He still wasn't sure he wanted to read it, but it didn't matter anyway, he was so exhausted at night he'd simply collapse in bed. There was simply no time for anything – including reading comics. His busy schedule was also beneficial to curtailing the strong impulse he'd have on occasion to call Justin.

He did spend some of his time wondering what the blonde was doing; if he was making any headway in getting his stuff seen. He worried if he was making enough money, or eating enough. It made him laugh sometimes, the things he found himself wondering and thinking and he had to ask himself when he'd started to become so…well….so hetero!

All his long hours were last minute preparations for the Sutton Brewery launch which was coming up fast. It was actually turning out to be a much bigger campaign than anything Kinnetik, or Brian, had handled before – bigger than Remson Pharmaceuticals and Brown Athletics even – and so Brian was incredibly diligent in making sure everything was exactly right. He wanted no surprises come Tuesday, June 28th when the first ads were scheduled to air on television and radio, and when the first print ads were scheduled to go out in the various local newspapers where they'd purchased ad space. There were even billboards going up just outside Philadelphia and Baltimore. There were so many cogs and wheels turning, each connected to and relying on the other that if any one piece failed the whole thing would collapse. As such, little else occupied Brian's thoughts. It was a blessing and curse. A blessing as it saved him from dwelling on the various crises in his life and curse because he was wound up so tight with no real release save quick and dirty jack off sessions in the shower.

Brian also only saw Sam at Kinnetik, and only when necessary. He would arrive mere moments before their meetings, and he'd leave almost immediately once they were done. Brian had attempted a few personal conversations only to be shot down; so they only talked business. The wound on his head was slowly healing, but still he wore a large bandage. According to Ted, Sam hadn't been back to Babylon or the diner since the fight. Brian had to wonder of Sam had gone out anywhere since that night. Not that Brian could really judge, he hadn't been to the diner or anywhere else other than Kinnetik for over two weeks either. Aside from seeing Ted at the office, he'd had no contact with any of his other friends.

Brian was also curious if Sam had contacted Ben but he hadn't had a chance to ask. He also hadn't had a chance to ask Michael because both Ben and Michael were still avoiding all of Brian's calls. Lindsay, too, hadn't seen or heard from them since the day Michael dropped his bombshell on her. Their absence had her nervous and anxious. Brian knew they were still in town because he'd driven past Red Cape Comics one afternoon on his way to see Lindsay and he'd seen Michael inside.

And then, just to top it all off, Brian was scheduled for a cancer screening check-up the day before the ad launch.

So it was with surprise that on the last Saturday of the month Debbie showed up at the country house.

Long weeks of working late hours had taken their toll and the weekend before the big Sutton Brewery launch was Brian's first opportunity to take a real break. He chilled the several cases of beer that the Brewery had had delivered a few days earlier, and he purchased several prime cut, high grade steaks. He would be spending the day at home with Gus, having called Lindsay to let her know not to expect him and Gus that afternoon. She had been disappointed, but understood. Brian shrugged off feelings of guilt, reminding himself that since Lindsay had been injured he'd spent more time with her than ever and one day off wouldn't be the end of the world.

Gina was also taking a break. She was in the throes of editing her thesis and preparing for her defense in three weeks. Thus, when she stumbled into the kitchen of the house that Saturday morning to beg some coffee, having forgotten to stock up the day before when she was in town, Brian invited her to spend the day by the pool with him and Gus. He offered her beer, and steak, and later in the day when Gus was tired of swimming and was sitting at the patio table drawing with the colored pencils Gina had gifted him upon her arrival, he offered her something stronger – his joint.

Brian would never consider smoking pot in front of Gus as acceptable parenting and even as he did it that afternoon he knew it was wrong. Yet he rationalized it by telling himself that he was in desperate need of at least one of his vices and since he couldn't in good faith go out tricking he'd decided smoking one joint would have to suffice. It wasn't as relaxing as it had been in the past though. He kept a watchful eye on Gus, ready to dump the joint into his beer if his son even made a slight move to come over to them. Thankfully, the light breeze was blowing out away from the house, so the smoke didn't linger and it was highly unlikely Gus would even know his dad was smoking something other than cigarettes, which was another vice Brian liked to keep hidden from Gus's view but which he also knew his son had seen him doing on occasion.

Brian and Gina smoked in silence, both lost in their own thoughts which suited Brian fine. He didn't need to talk – in fact, he was relishing the quiet and finding the fact that he could sit and smoke with Gina quite comforting.

It was unfortunate then, that that was the moment Debbie decided to make an appearance, strolling out through the back patio door as if she owned the place. Brian barely had time to register her presence before her eyes were on him and her expression clearly betrayed her very obvious disapproval. Gus, oblivious to this, leapt from the table and ran to his "grandma" gleefully. Debbie swept him up and smothered him with kisses before dropping him back to the ground and sending him back to his drawing.

Brian, discarding the half-smoked joint in his half-empty bottle of White Water Pale Ale while this reunion took place, felt his mellowing high blow away on the breeze as Deb's scornful gaze fell back on him.

"This isn't what I expected to find," she said purposefully.

Brian just shrugged as he held her stare. When she neither looked away nor relaxed her expression Brian sighed and stood slowly.

"This is Gina, Gus's nanny," Brian indicated towards the bikini-clad red-head who, unlike Brian, had the decency to look ashamed of herself.

"Uh, hi?" Gina stood and offered a hand out to Debbie. Brian watched Deb examine her in before her expression finally did soften somewhat and she shook the younger woman's hand.

"Nanny, huh? Shit. It's a good thing you aren't this one's type," Debbie said, indicating towards Brian.

"Take Gus inside, will you?" Brian turned to Gina and the young woman just nodded and with a nervous smile at Deb, retrieved Gus, his colored pencils and paper, and disappeared into the shadows of the house.

"What do you want, Deb," Brian dropped back onto the chaise where he had moments earlier been enjoying the quite potent joint, which was now floating in the half-empty beer next to him.

"What the fuck are you doing smoking that shit in front of your kid?" Debbie moved to sit on the lounge chair that Gina had just vacated. She sat sideways, her elbows resting on her knees while she stared hard at Brian.

"You're no dummy but by God, that's the dumbest thing I think I've ever seen you do," Debbie paused, "and I've seen you do a lot of dumb shit."

Brian silently adjusted his sunglasses on his face.

Debbie sighed loudly, "I don't know why I bother," she added before twisting on the lounge and bringing her legs up stretching them out in front of her.

"I came to talk to you about Lindsay and Michael," she said and that got Brian's attention.

"What about them? You here to tell me to leave precious Michael alone? That just because Lindsay's not JR's birth-mother she doesn't have the right to be considered her parent even though she raised her for a year?"

Brian had leaned forward once more, turning to look at Deb as the words flew from his mouth, unbidden.

"Actually, no," Debbie said back startling Brian into silence.

"That little girl's birth-mother is dead and Lindsay is the only other mother she has. I have always believed that a child belongs with its mother; if she's deserving. And Lindsay is deserving. And just because Michael is my son doesn't change that for me. I don't think Lindsay should have full custody mind you, but I also think what Michael is doing is wrong. That baby needs a mother, and she needs to know Melanie, and Lindsay is how that happens."

Brian was slightly surprised to hear Debbie say most of this. Michael was her one and only child and he'd never seen her choose someone else over him – except when Michael tried to take JR from Mel soon after she had been born. So really, Brian shouldn't have been surprised at Deb's reaction now – this was kind of the same situation, in a way.

"Don't look so fucking surprised," she said with obvious irritation and Brian smirked.

"I just want you to know that, and I want you to tell Lindsay I'm on her side. I'll testify if I have to, that JR needs her. So just tell her, will you?"

Brian nodded. He wondered why Deb didn't go see Lindsay herself but then figured she was likely afraid of upsetting her.

"You haven't been around the last few weeks," Debbie changed the subject abruptly and Brian knew the child custody topic was no longer open for discussion.

"Been busy with work," Brian added, relaxing back in his chair.

"Oh? Not avoiding everyone?"

"Hardly," Brian laughed. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Debbie watching him closely. She was one of a very select few who had the insufferable ability to read him even when he didn't want to be read. He adjusted his features into the most emotionless mask he could muster.

"We all know about Sam," she said then and Brian suppressed a sigh.

"Good for you," he snarked and Deb gave a snort of laughter.

It was apparent that Michael hadn't told anyone that Brian and Sam had fucked – though he assumed most of his friends probably thought they had anyway. Still, it was nice that Deb wasn't harping on him about it or asking about HIV, though he didn't doubt it was on her mind.

"Wanna stay for steaks?"

Debbie's laugh was full-throated and Brian couldn't help the small smile that broke out on his face.

"Oh, Brian," she groaned as she stood and then she was hovering over him, her hand on his head and her lips pressed to his temple. "Take care of yourself, honey. And take care of that kid."

She kissed him on the temple, following it with a not so gentle slap to his cheek.

"And don't fucking smoke that shit with him around, got it?"

Brian nodded and then just as quickly as she'd arrived, she was gone.

* * *

In spite of Debbie's surprise visit, Brian's weekend was relaxing and he started off the week of the campaign launch feeling refreshed. He spent his Monday making sure everything was in place for the big release the following day, before he took off work at lunch for his doctor appointment. He'd already informed Lindsay he may or may not be able to visit that afternoon, but assured her Gina would be there with Gus nonetheless. He hadn't told her about Debbie's visit yet, saving that for later in the week.

The check-up was routine, his yearly screening. He wasn't worried. He'd been clean of cancer for not quite a year now and he had every reason to believe he'd continue to be cancer-free. He was, however, under the responsibility to have these yearly checks for at least four more years before he could claim to be completely cancer free. His type of testicular cancer could potentially show up again – which was the last thing Brian needed to concern himself with but there it was. Still – he wasn't nervous or expecting anything less than a clean bill of health.

What worried him more was the upcoming three-month HIV test he had scheduled in July. That he felt nervous about. Not that he thought he would suddenly test positive after two negative results – though it was always possible – he was nervous because it was a blatant reminder of how he'd fucked things up and how he'd endangered Justin.

Justin.

For the first time since the blonde had returned to New York Brian regretted their mutual decision to have no contact. This was one instance in which he wished he could call up the other man if only to get some perspective and some reassurance. Not only for the cancer but for the custody battle, and Gus's welfare, and Lindsay, and the HIV, and everything. He wished he could have asked Justin to come back for the party Brown Sutton was having catered (by Emmett no less) at Kinnetik the following night to celebrate the campaign. He wished…

But he couldn't do any of that. They'd agreed, and Brian didn't want to distract Justin or be the reason for his failure.

So Brian, alone, went through the motions with his doctor and then put it from his mind. He wouldn't officially hear anything until later in the week at the earliest, though his doctor did tell him preliminarily there was no sign of any new growths. That was enough for Brian. He arrived at Lindsay's room at the Rehabilitation wing of the hospital only twenty minutes later than he'd intended, and in a splendid mood.

* * *

June 28th, the official launch date of the ad campaign for Sutton Brewery's new brew, White Water Pale Ale. It was also, as far as Brian knew, the last or one of the last times he would see Sam Fairfield. Sam had been absent around Pittsburgh and Kinnetik since the fight at Babylon, only coming to the office when he had meetings with Brian. Not since the early morning drive home had he and Brian had any conversation that didn't revolve around work. Brian wasn't sure if the other man was embarrassed, or angry, or what – but Brian couldn't let him go without having one more conversation with him.

Over the last few months he'd developed a strange sort of dependence on Sam's calm, rational demeanor as well as his intuitive nature and backhanded way of offering Brian unsolicited advice regarding life, and love, and self-worth. It was strange, because Brian wouldn't tolerate the same behavior from his other friends. He found it odd to realize that he might miss Sam once he was gone back to Toronto.

When Brian arrived at Kinnetik he found much of his staff already there, making preparations for the evening's party, as well as setting up televisions so they could all watch the live first broadcast of the commercial Brian had spent the last couple weeks helping produce. The bulk of the money Sutton paid to Kinnetik was for the television ads, and Brian knew the success of the campaign depended almost entirely on that piece which was why it was such a big account. All his other clients were mainly focused on print ads but not Sutton. He said the effectiveness of print ads was fading fast as newspapers went out of business and magazines catered to more specific clientele. He believed it was harder to find the right niche audience for certain products. Brian agreed to a point, but being the good ad man he was, he tailored the campaign towards what Sutton wanted. Thankfully, for Brian, Kinnetik, and the Sutton Brewery, most all niche audiences appreciated a good beer. Brian really didn't know how they could possibly fail.

Brian secluded himself in his office, checking schedules and making sure things were lined up and ready to go for the night. Sometime early afternoon, Brown Sutton and Darcy Lang arrived at the office, Sam trailing behind them. Brown chattered excitedly at Brian for several minutes before Sam pulled both he and Darcy away, promising to return them around 5pm when the festivities were scheduled to start.

Brian continued to work – calling in to talk to Lindsay instead of driving over. She understood the importance of this particular campaign, and that its success could make or break Kinnetik. Brian also chatted briefly with Gus, who was there visiting his mother with Gina, and had to promise to take him to the zoo because he had seen a billboard with a giant panda on it on the way into the city that afternoon.

Brian smirked as he hung up – yeah, advertising really did work.

Ted and Emmett burst through Brian's office door then, the latter looking much improved in the two weeks since his injury. He still was still sporting the last bit of evidence of two black eyes, but the swelling was down and if you didn't know what he looked like normally you'd just think he had a very wide bridge of his nose.

"Where do you want everything?" Emmett, in full on party planner mode, stood before Brian's desk with his hands on his hips and his expression expectant.

"I told you, Em," Ted stood slightly behind Emmett and shrugged at Brian.

"He wouldn't accept any direction from Cynthia or me, insisting on you telling him," Ted said to Brian.

"Since you've been avoiding all your friends the last few weeks I figured this was my only chance to make sure you were still alive, even with Debbie and Teddy insisting you were," Emmett huffed and Brian had to smile.

He and Emmett had never been particularly close, but recently, as with Theodore, their relationship had matured and Brian now truly appreciated the hard work Emmett did, and he respected the success of his small business – which he knew wouldn't be small for long.

"Emmett, you can ask Cythina, or Ted, where everything goes and don't worry, I'll be at the reception later tonight so you can stalk me there," Brian shuffled his paperwork as a kind of indication that he was very busy.

"You had better be," Emmett said sullenly, turning to follow Ted, who stood at the door holding it open as he waited.

"Oh, Brian?" Emmett paused and turned back to Brian, "Will Sam be here later? I want to talk to him."

"Yeah," Brian nodded, "he'll be here."

Emmett smiled but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Everything okay?" Brian asked, suddenly afraid that somehow Emmett had been infected.

"Oh, yes," he nodded, "the rapid test came back negative, and I have another test next month just to be safe. I'm not concerned."

Brian nodded with relief as Emmett, with a flamboyant wave of his hand, followed Ted out of Brian's office.

The party that night was a big success – as were the ads. No one but those directly involved in the production of the spots had seen anything but concept art, and so when the ads first aired there were loud cheers and sounds of people clinking their bottles of White Water Pale Ale together. The commercial played off the name of the beer and the wild, adventurous nature of white water rapids. It was obvious, but it was also effective. Brian, after seeing the spot, felt confident that he had just elevated Kinnetik into a new realm and that prospect excited him almost as much as the first day his fledgling agency had been open for business.

The party continued to rave on, and when Brown Sutton placed a five figure bonus check into Brian's hands, he found himself rendered speechless.

"There's more where that came from if this goes the way I'm hoping," Brown clapped Brian on the shoulder, laughing loudly before grabbing a glass of wine off the tray of a passing waiter and moving towards a group of graphic artists chattering excitedly with Darcy about their ideas for the next crop of tv spots.

Brian stared at the check, mentally calculating how much each employee would receive after he'd taken half and reinvested it back into the company. It was significant. He grinned, then turned and headed towards his office intending to put the check into the small safe he had hidden in the wall.

On his way back to his office Brian caught a glimpse of Emmett and Sam, heads close together as they talked, and he made a detour towards them. Sam saw him first, taking a step away from Emmett as Brian approached.

"Hey can I talk to you for a minute?" Brian looked to Sam, only peripherally registering Emmett slinking away and disappearing back into the party.

Sam nodded and Brian turned back towards his office, weaving his way through the celebratory throng of Kinnetik employees.

Brian's office was empty, save for a few of Emmett's workers who were using the conference table at the opposite end to stage the drinks and hors d'oeuvres. Brian wordlessly walked towards that end of the office and pulled the sliding doors across the length of the room, closing them off from the workers and allowing for some semblance of privacy.

Brian moved to the sofa against the far wall and sat down, setting the check on the coffee table before putting his feet up on it as well.

"When are you heading back?" Brian asked.

Sam stood on the other side of the squat, square table, his hands in his pockets. His forehead was healing up nicely, and instead of a wide, white bandage he now sported several smaller, nude-colored ones. It was still obvious he was injured, but it stood out much less against his skin.

"Day after tomorrow," Sam replied.

Brian nodded as he chewed his lower lip. It was so strange – the way this man had come into his life, thrown it all upside down, and now he was going to waltz back out again. Though really, that wasn't a fair assessment as it does take two to fuck…

"But the way Brown is talking, I'm sure we'll be doing a lot more collaborating," Sam continued, "it seems he wants to reinvigorate all the advertising for every line of beer we have. So…,"

"So," Brian repeated, dollar signs flashing before his eyes and making him feel giddy and light-headed.

"Can I ask you something?" Sam pulled his hands out of his pockets and moved around the table, lowering himself on the other end of the sofa from Brian.

Brian simply shrugged, "You can ask. Doesn't mean I'll answer."

Sam gave a light chuckle of laughter, "Fair enough."

He stared at Brian for a long moment before he spoke, and the question was not what Brian was expecting. Though to be fair, Brian wasn't sure what he was expecting…

"Why do you fuck around?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why, when you have Justin, do you fuck around?" Sam seemed honestly curious which was really the only reason Brian even considered the question.

"I watched you two dancing at Babylon," Sam went on when Brian didn't immediately answer, "and what I saw was magical. It's so obvious he loves you, and – this may be hard for you to hear – but it was obvious you love him, too."

Brian nodded slowly, absorbing Sam's words. Justin was the most comfortable and safe place Brian had – past or present. But life was complicated and Brian was complicated and things that seemed obvious and easy at first sight usually never were…

"So again I ask why, when you have that within your grasp, do you trick?"

"Because I can," Brian said, his stock answer rolling off his tongue without thought – it was easier than addressing the years of underlying issues that had led Brian down that long, promiscuous road, "because I'm a fag and I like to fuck. It's as simple as that."

"And now? After this?" Sam waved his hand between he and Brian, "you'll go back to that behavior?"

Brian shrugged. He hadn't fucked anyone since Toronto, when he and Justin had been together. Sure, there'd been the reciprocal giving and receiving of blow jobs when Justin was just in town but other than that Brian hadn't gotten off with anyone or anything other than his own hand. He missed his tricking ways…but he also didn't miss it. With Gus, and Lindsay, and living in fucking West Virginia he'd been too busy to really notice – other than when he realized at night that his balls ached from needing release.

"I don't see how that's any of your business, really," Brian said though it was lacking any of his usual bravado.

"I know some of what's happening between you and Justin is my fault, and so I feel like I need to make up for it. To make sure your both okay," Sam replied.

"First of all it's not your fault, it's mine," Brian put his feet to the floor and sat up. "and as for being responsible – you're not. I'm responsible for me and whatever happens between Justin and I is on us. So stop."

"Sure," Sam sighed and Brian watched his hand rise up and touch the bandage on his head.

"I've learned a few things, being here," Sam sighed, "and your friend Ben was instrumental in helping me recently. So thank you for that. But I feel like I need to say this one other thing and then I'll drop it. Not another word from me on the subject"

Brian rolled his eyes and gestured with his hand for Sam to continue.

"Okay," Sam took a breath before he spoke, "while I can appreciate and understand your perspective on sacrifice and love, I don't think you're doing Justin any favors by forcing him to live out some fantasy life you think he wants. From what little I know of you two, and from others have told me and from what I've seen myself, I think it's obvious he just wants to be with you."

Brian stared at Sam, slightly surprised at the turn in the conversation. He could only assume by friends he meant Emmett, running his mouth off and telling tales out of school, talking about things he had no right, or no understanding of. Brian swallowed his anger – he tried to rationalize that Sam meant well, but he really didn't know what he was talking about. Did he? Of course he was only saying the same thing Justin had told Brian more than a few times over the last few months. Maybe Brian didn't always know best and maybe he needed to trust in those around him a little more…

But if he did that then the question became, if Justin did find success in New York, and he stayed, what then? He was past the point of being able to let him go without another thought or a backward glance. He would be miserable. That was when Brian realized that he'd been operating under the assumption that Justin would be returning to Pittsburgh at the end of his 6-month time limit. Brian realized he had been, subconsciously, assuming Justin would fail. Not because he wasn't talented because he was, but because it was the only logical conclusion. It was the only end result Brian could wrap his mind around.

But it wasn't the only logical conclusion. Justin was determined, and stubborn, and resourceful. Brian had experienced all of these wonderful traits through the years. But if Justin did make it big, and he became an artist in demand…then what? Would he still come back to Pittsburgh? And if so, when? How long would they have to live a double life? Or would Justin expect Brian to move to New York?

Brian couldn't move to New York…he had Gus. And Lindsay. And Kinnetik. Maybe someday – but not yet; not now.

And Sam didn't know Justin. Aside from that night at Babylon, they'd never even been in the same room together. And if Emmett, prone to dramatizations and exaggerations, was his source then his words may be just smoke.

Still they stirred something in Brian, something he hadn't really considered before. Something he didn't know if Justin had considered. And that was frightening.


	15. How Soon is Now?

Everything was wrong; or it felt that way to Brian anyway. Lindsay was upset, Michael wasn't speaking to him, and he couldn't stop thinking about what Sam had said to him regarding Justin.

_I don't think you're doing Justin any favors by forcing him to live out some fantasy life you think he wants. From what little I know of you two, and from others have told me and from what I've seen myself, I think it's obvious he just wants to be with you._

It wasn't anything earth shattering or new. Brian knew this. Hell, he and Justin had talked about it more than once themselves, and recently too. Yet even with all that Brian couldn't let go of the compulsion to try and control him – and not in the way most people would think. He didn't want to tell Justin what to do; he let the younger man do what he wanted. No, what Brain did was think he knew better than Justin what it was Justin _wanted_. He wasn't sure the blonde was willing to take the risks he needed too, to make those things happen. Namely – leaving Brian behind in Pittsburgh to pursue his art.

Thus, the conundrum.

Brian was tired of the push and pull of their on-again/off-again pseudo-relationship. He was tired of hurting Justin (for his own good, he'd tell himself again and again), tired of feeling like an asshole even though his intentions were always well meaning. He was tired of the fact that the two of them never seemed to be able to make it fucking work. It never seemed to be the right time, and they were never in the same place emotionally, at least not at the same time.

It was incredibly frustrating.

Frustrating because Brian was closer to settling down and accepting a life with Justin than any of his friends or acquaintances would think. The last several months of taking care of Gus and basically abandoning his old lifestyle, cold turkey, had changed him. He felt vastly different from the man he'd been back in January when Justin had first left for New York. The weight of all the responsibilities that had been laid on him were grounding him, and not in a bad way necessarily, though there were days Brain felt he were drowning under all the pressure; but those days were growing fewer and further between. He still felt the call, the urge, occasionally, to run out to Babylon and park himself in the backroom and let every guy willing suck him off…but he couldn't do it.

He wouldn't do it.

He had Gus. And Justin.

Justin might not be physically present in Brian's life at the moment, but he was present in Brian's heart. More than once he'd tried to kick the blonde out, but Justin was a part of him now. Fused to his very core. Brian was the man he was because of Justin and the harder he tried to push him away or ignore his feelings the more often he would find himself instead thinking of him. Brian was slowly realizing that resistance was futile and he wasn't sure there was a single thing left he could do to make Justin go away – short of hurting him with a manufactured lie and even Brian knew that was going too far. Besides, he was warming to the idea of a future with Justin. He just didn't know what that future would be and how it would work…

Brian was living his dream. Running his own ad agency and making so much money that he was dreaming of opening a satellite office in Manhattan. Part of the draw was Justin, but part of the draw was Brian's own desire to leave Pittsburgh and all its shitty memories behind him.

But Lindsay. And Gus.

New York was no place to raise a kid like Gus. He would hate it there. And then there was Justin. Brian wasn't even sure the younger man would be staying in New York. He was half-way through his self-imposed six month window and, last Brian knew, no closer to finding all the fabulous success that had been promised him by so many people. Justin was so fucking talented and deserving of every success, but Brian just didn't know if it would come to him and that was part of the problem, too. Brian _wanted_ Justin to be a big, fat, fucking success. He wanted it so very badly. He wanted Justin to sell his paintings for thousands of dollars and be in demand and travel the world. God did he want that for him. That was part of his insistence Justin go back to New York – because he so desperately wanted success for Justin, sometimes he thought more than Justin wanted it for himself.

But Brian also wanted Justin back in the house in West Virginia. And that was pure selfishness. The part of him he refused to give in to because he wouldn't and couldn't ever ask Justin to give up anything for him and similarly, he wouldn't and couldn't allow Justin to give up on finding all the success he deserved, for Brian. He just wouldn't – no matter how much Justin might be willing. No matter how much Justin wanted to be with Brian over being a successful artist.

The six-month time limit still worried Brian, but the fact that they hadn't spoken for almost a month now had him hoping the lack of distraction was allowing Justin to make fucking fantastic art, and allowing him to really examine his own wants and needs. He wouldn't refuse Justin coming home if that's what he decided to do in a few months, but Brian still couldn't help but worry that Justin may just pass the time until then, only giving a half-hearted effort to show his art to the masses, simply so he could return to Brian. The one thing Brian never wanted Justin to experience was anger and regret that he didn't do more when he'd had the chance. He didn't want Justin to wake up one day and resent Brian's or presence in his life. He didn't want Justin to feel like he'd given up too soon.

It made Brian uncomfortable to think he had that kind of power because it was, mostly, unwanted. He relished the sexual magnetism he had always commanded from people, gay or straight. But he didn't relish the blind adoration Justin had for him. He'd grown out of it, mostly, over the years but there was still a little bit of that teenager inside him and sometimes Brian would see that kid looking out at him from Justin's eyes. Brian didn't want Justin to live his life based on him, because he wouldn't live his life based on Justin. But then again, that was never Brian's style to begin with. Justin, on the other hand, had always wanted a home and a family and security and he'd always wanted those things with Brian; he'd been willing to give up so much to be with Brian before that now, with his future success within reach Brian didn't want him to give up any more.

_I don't think you're doing Justin any favors by forcing him to live out some fantasy life you think he wants…_

Had Sam really seen Justin so clearly while Brian refused to admit that maybe he wanted Justin to be a famous artist more than Justin wanted it for himself? And if that was the case, how in the hell was Brian supposed to ask the blonde for the truth and get an honest answer? Or had he been getting a truly honest answer all along, only refusing to acknowledge it because he assumed he knew better?

The basic fact was Brian loved Justin. He loved just being beside him, and kissing him, and touching him, and running his fingers through his soft blonde hair. He loved fucking him, hearing him gasp with pleasure as Brian pressed into him again and again; slowly, quickly, roughly, softly. It didn't matter. Those full, tender lips and the soft, pale skin and the tiny smattering of freckles on his gorgeous bubble butt...

It was an undisputed fact (in Brian's head anyway), he wasn't going anywhere – not physically and certainly not emotionally. The things Brian felt for Justin were not emotions he was willing to open himself up to ever again. He would never allow himself to feel so strongly for someone else, the pleasure and the pain too much to bear most of the time. Plus no one could ever compare. Justin challenged him and excited him and made him feel safe. That in itself was a feat and one that no one else in the world had a chance at meeting or besting.

_From what little I know of you two, and from others have told me and from what I've seen myself, I think it's obvious he just wants to be with you._

Fuck Sam and fuck Justin and fuck everyone. Brian had never known his life to be so damn complicated.

A few days after the campaign launch for Sutton's Pale Ale, Sam left Pittsburgh. He was now back in Toronto and back with Jake, or so Brian supposed. He had called Brian from the airport to briefly thank him for his work and to let him know that they'd be talking again.

Brown Sutton, before he'd left the day after the campaign launch party, had cornered Brian to let him know he wanted Kinnetik to begin work immediately on more of their ads. He was going to return to Toronto and draft up some new contracts for the upcoming work. He promised it would be very lucrative for them both and Brian felt a great sense of pride at how well he'd done for himself.

So Brian and Sam would be working together again.

The promise of increasing the size of the already extremely lucrative Sutton Brewery account allowed Brian to realistically envision his little boutique agency growing over the course of the next five years, ultimately ending with an expansion office in New York City; likely long after Gus was grown, but still Brian harbored the dream of someday working and living in New York City. He wanted Justin there with him.

Brian couldn't help but feel afraid that even though he was willing to give Justin more now than he ever was before, it still wouldn't be enough and the blonde would eventually leave him again. He was stuck at the point of offering Justin _almost_ everything, and he could only hope it would be enough for Justin until he finally could give him truly everything. Because he wanted to give Justin everything – he was just…well…he was terrified.

Then there was the HIV nightmare they were currently living for one thing. Brian had always lived his life spending no time acknowledging or recognizing regret yet he could name two things in his life he did regret, and one of those things was his damned one-night stand with Sam. The three-month HIV test was coming up fast and Brian actually felt more nervous for it than he had for either of his first two tests. It wasn't that he thought he might suddenly test positive – even though he knew that was still a possibility – but it was really starting to bother him that he couldn't remember a single event from that night. It wasn't necessarily that he didn't trust Sam's word they'd used a condom – Brian just couldn't remember, and it was hard to manage his emotions regarding the situation when he had no recollection of it.

He always remembered. No matter how high or how drunk – once he was feed a few pieces of information about a night he could almost always start to fill in all the missing pieces. But not this time. Nothing but empty space and missing time could be recalled when Brian tried to remember what had happened once he'd entered the doors of Vertigo. It was not knowing what had happened after he'd gone inside that made the situation all the more stressful because while Brian always used a condom – even when drunk or high – he'd never been so drunk or high he'd blacked out. And if he could black out then who was to say he really did put on a condom when he'd fucked Sam? Or that they'd used protection every time? Because as sore as Brian's dick had been the following morning, he knew he'd had a quite lengthy fuck session. And was Sam really the only guy that night? He'd said they'd only fucked once but maybe he'd only said that to appease Brian's nerves.

There was no reason to think back on it and dwell on it. It was done, the consequences of the night being lived out in real time and for at least another three months. Regret or not, Brian had no choice but to trust Sam's word – and that was asking a lot. Brian didn't give trust easy and certainly never his tricks, even if they turned into somewhat of a friend later on. It was all taking a toll. Brian really wanted nothing more than for this entire ordeal to be over with.

He thought about these things over the days following the Sutton campaign launch – spending hours at night lying in bed just thinking and debating and trying to figure his shit out. After a few days he was no closer to knowing what he should do then before. Finally, after having stared at it for weeks and as a distraction from his current cycle of thoughts, Brian opened the issue of Rage Justin had sent him some time ago, and read it.

The cover, which Brian immediately recognized as an allusion to his physical and emotional distance from Justin right before and after the car accident, was only a small taste of what was really in the story – which Brian had to admit was one of the more compelling Justin and Michael had told. He hadn't said anything to them himself but after the Rage/JT wedding issue, the comic stalled a bit. The stories had grown stale and predictable and the result was a small slump in sales. The comic was still a big hit with the fags; where else were they going to see a gay crusader? But there hadn't been much if any growth in readership since that issue – according to Michael anyway.

Brian was sure this latest issue would fix that problem. It was dark, and ominous, and by the end Brian didn't know how Rage would get out of his predicament, or how Zephyr and JT could possibly help save him.

And, while the reality that had been mirrored in the comic panels was itself taking a turn towards the better, Brian hoped Michael and Justin didn't take the easy out in the comic. He hoped they would stretch the current crisis over a few more issues and really milk the angst for all it was worth because it fucking worked, and worked well.

The comic opened with JT going out of town on a trip with his mother and sister. Rage couldn't leave the people of Gayopolis without their protector, so he stayed behind to fight the evil that always seemed to be lurking around every corner. This particular issue introduced a new villain, Shadow-Man, who hypnotized Rage with a powerful toxin and then slowly fed off his life force, draining him slowly of his strength, intelligence, emotions, and his will to live.

Zephyr recognized the change in Rage immediately and he and his professor boyfriend called JT back to Gayopolis where the three of them together worked to find a cure for Rage and the others being infected as well as a way to identify and defeat the Shadow-Man. By the last few pages of the comic, Rage was a shell of himself, oblivious to the toxin's spread through the rest of the gays in his city. He was unwilling, not to mention unable, to fight back.

Brian wasn't blind to the parallels between HIV and AIDS and the toxin Rage and the others were being infected with. In fact he thought it was rather brilliant, the way it was done. Though he had to wonder how much of it was Michael, who at the time hadn't known about Brian and Justin's situation, and how much was Justin trying to work through his own shit.

The last page of the comic showed Rage, ravaged from the toxin and oblivious to the fact that Shadow-Man was moments away from infecting JT, the love of his life, with the very same toxin and then…_To be continued…_

Brian sighed with frustration, putting the comic back on his nightstand as he found himself neither distracted nor any less consumed by thoughts of Justin. It seemed his story was destined to always be in a state of "to be continued" as well…

* * *

Just a couple days later, the day before the Fourth of July holiday, Brian stopped by the Liberty Diner for some lemon squares. He and Gus were going to have a long day with Lindsay on the fourth, having a picnic before watching the city's fireworks display together. He wanted to get a dozen lemon squares for the day, knowing they were a favorite of Lindsay and Gus.

Upon entering the diner he was surprised to find Ben sitting at the counter having a laugh with Debbie. Michael was nowhere to be seen, nor was JR.

Brian, who had told Lindsay about Debbie's visit and her message only a few days earlier, felt a flash of irritation at her contradictory behavior and he approached the duo with growing, irrational anger.

"Hey Deb," Brian grinned sardonically as both Debbie and Ben turned to look at him.

Debbie smacked her gum before smiling widely and greeting him in return. Brian noticed Ben looked away quickly and didn't offer a greeting. Brian felt his anger bubble in his gut. There was no reason Ben should be acting like Brian had done something wrong…if anything, he and Michael should feel ashamed of the way they were treating Lindsay. And then there was Debbie, acting like everything was just peachy when not even two weeks earlier she had been at Brian's declaring her support of Lindsay.

It was all bullshit, and Brian channeled all the frustrations he felt regarding Justin, and Sam, and everything else into that moment, feeling anger that was quite disproportionate to the situation grow within him.

"Professor," Brian pointedly looked at Ben, seeing Debbie's brow furrow as she looked between the two men.

"What can I get you, hon?" she asked then, and Brian looked back to her.

"A dozen lemon squares," he said softly, pulling a twenty from his front pocket, "to go."

Debbie nodded. Her face betraying her concerned confusion before she turned towards the covered cake dish which held the lemon squares.

"Where's the baby today," Brian, watching Deb count out twelve lemon squares, asked with barely controlled hostility.

"She's with Michael at the store," Ben answered and when Brian turned to look at his best friend's husband he offered Ben a sardonic smile.

"That's great," he replied, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. Brian tried not to enjoy the fact that he visibly saw Ben bristle at his tone.

Deb returned then, handing Brian the large Styrofoam container and taking the proffered fifty in return.

"Keep the change," Brian said coolly before turning back to address Ben once again.

"She could be with Lindsay you know," Brian leveled his gaze at Ben, who didn't look away even as his eyes slightly narrowed. "Then she wouldn't be in the way while you both are trying to work."

"Lindsay can't-," Ben started, then pausing and smiling between Brian and Deb. Brian let his gaze travel to Deb and she looked concerned. Her brow furrowed as she stared at Ben with an odd expression on her face.

"Lindsay's not well enough. She's paralyzed. How would she keep up with and take care of a one-year old?"

"Fuck you, Ben," Brian laughed bitterly, "That's total fucking bullshit. Lindsay is her mother and you and your _wife_ are purposefully keeping her away. She's all Lindsay has left of Melanie, and you won't even take her to visit? You and Michael are so fucking entitled."

Brian could see a blush rising up Ben's neck at the same time his eyes hardened.

"We're doing what's best for JR," Ben stood and tossed money on the counter, "not what's best for Lindsay, or for you."

He stood and stared hard at Brian before offering Deb a smile that Brian would say contained no humor or laughter at all. He then headed towards the front exit.

"You forgot to mention that you're also doing what's best for yourselves," Brian called out and he felt some satisfaction at Ben's slight pause, "because if you were doing what was best for JR you wouldn't be keeping her away from the only mother she has left."

Ben didn't respond, or turn around, but his pause was answer enough for Brian. He had a feeling Ben was conflicted about this custody thing even as he stood by his husband. Brian could only hope he'd talk some sense into Michael.

"Don't," Brian shook his head at Debbie as she opened her mouth, presumably to say something about the scene that had just occurred in front of her.

Brian didn't wait around to see what Debbie would say or do next. Instead, he simply took the container of lemon squares and quickly departed the diner.

* * *

It was midnight. Gus was finally asleep after the dramatic and emotional end to their otherwise fun and carefree day. Brian was frazzled, frayed, nearing defeat, and he had no one he could talk to. Lindsay was far too upset to offer comfort or understanding to Brian, Michael still wasn't speaking to him, and now, after his display at the diner the day before he wasn't too keen on talking to Deb. Ted and Emmett just couldn't understand and Brian wasn't comfortable enough to expose himself to them this way…

Brian was feeling lost and unsure of everything. He didn't know what to do next and he desperately wanted to hear a friendly voice, one that wouldn't pronounce judgments on him, or make him feel worse than he already did. He needed some reassurance and there really was really only one person that could give Brian any of those things…

At first he thought the other man wouldn't answer, but then he heard his voice – breathless and panting.

"Busy with something?" Brian tried to tease but it fell flat and only ended up sounding oddly awkward, especially when he thought about everything they were currently dealing with.

"No, I just got back home from my studio, I left my cell phone at the apartment and I could hear it ringing down below so I ran up the stairs," Justin breathed and Brian let out a silent sigh of relief. Either Justin didn't catch his intimation, or he was simply choosing to ignore it. In any case Brian was glad. He shouldn't attempt to make classless jokes when in a fatalistic mood.

"I know we agreed not to talk for awhile-," Brian paused as he tried to think about how to tell Justin he just needed to hear his voice. That he just needed to talk to someone – or rather, he needed to talk to _him_. He needed help. Fuck if he'd ever actually asked for help from anyone before – he truly didn't even know how to form the words.

Justin's voice was soft, "Are you okay? Is Gus okay?"

"I think. Shit, I don't know," Brian shook his head with frustration. He desperately wanted to skip over this part and get to the good stuff. When Gus would hopefully be happy and adjusted, when Lindsay would hopefully be on her feet again, when Justin would hopefully be here with him in his arms…

"What is it?" The uncertainty Brian heard in Justin's voice only made his own apparent inadequacies as a father feel amplified.

"We were in Pittsburgh tonight for fireworks - at the hospital with Lindsay. They actually let us go to the roof to watch the show the city put on," Brian smiled slightly as he recalled how excited Gus had been all day.

"Gus was laughing and running around with a few of the other kids beforehand," Brian closed his eyes. He and Lindsay had a makeshift picnic set up on a small table, while Gus ran around laughing and waving one of the many sparklers he'd been playing with through the evening.

"Then the big show started, and at first Gus really liked it but then, I don't know, something changed and he became terrified," Brian's breathing hitched in his chest as he recalled the abject terror that had transformed his young son's face as he had looked at Brian for help and rescue.

Gus's eyes had been wide and his skin had taken on an ashy tone that even in the low light of the evening was far too pale. He had stared at Brian, his tiny body flinching with each echoing boom, the giant display continuing in the sky behind him. Brian had stared at him for far too long, the reaction he was witnessing was completely unexpected and he didn't know how to process it let alone know what to do. It wasn't until Lindsay gripped his forearm tightly and called his name in a harsh whisper that Brian gathered his wits and stood, grabbing Gus in his arms. Gus had immediately wrapped his arms tight around Brian's neck and buried his face in his neck. Brian could vaguely hear Gus's tiny voice saying 'No' over and over in the most mournful voice.

Without even waiting to see if Lindsay was alright or following them, Brian carried Gus swiftly from the roof and down to the interior of the hospital. He tried to find a room where the booms of the fireworks were muted, but since the hospital was so close to where the display was being set off it was hard to block the noise out completely.

Gus didn't move or relinquish his grip on Brian even after the last boom had sounded. By then Lindsay (with the help of a nurse) had tracked them down and though she offered a soothing voice and comforting hand Gus would not go to her. In fact he would not let go of Brian at all, not until the two of them arrived at the car where Brian had to forcibly pull Gus off him. The little boy's face was still ashen, his cheeks were flushed bright red, and his eyes were wet with tears. He cried for nearly the entire drive back to the house, and it took Brian another thirty minutes to calm him down to sleep.

"I don't know what to do," Brian finished as he felt his own tenuous hold on his emotions falter. "He's a fucking kid and having, near as I can tell, walking nightmares and flashbacks to that damned car accident. Like PTSD."

Brian sighed and rubbed his eyes. He was so fucking tired. Between thoughts of Justin, dealing with Gus every night, and his own unsettling dreams Brian was exhausted. He just wanted to sleep for a week.

"That's probably what it is," Justin finally said, his voice soft and soothing and Brian immediately felt a calmness come over him. As he had been talking, his own anxiety and fear had been ramping up, bringing him close to the edge of insanity but now, with the reassuring tone of Justin's voice in his ear Brian felt his hold on reality begin to strengthen again. He silently begged Justin to continue, to bring Brian back from the brink.

"It sounds like what I went through. After the bashing," Justin added and Brian sighed inwardly as a flash of pain from the past – a long filed-away memory of pulling Justin into his arms when he'd freaked out at Gus's first birthday party – playing in his head. Memories of the trauma of being bashed had overwhelmed him to the point of emotional paralyzation.

Shit, it was just like Gus tonight.

"I remember," Brian responded quietly.

"All you can do for him is what you did for me," Justin said and Brian felt a soft chuckle escape his lips.

"Not exactly what I did for you," Brian teased, recalling what had happened that night after Gus's party. It had been tender, and slow, and had begun the healing process for both of them – though Brian would never admit to anyone that he too had needed healing after that awful, long and painful summer.

"You know what I mean," Justin sighed and Brian recognized the lighthearted tease of his tone.

"Fuck," Brian spat the word almost bitterly, "I've missed your voice."

Brian squeezed his eyes shut, the self-loathing he felt at his confession an automatic reaction and oddly comforting even though he wished he could make it go away. He was too damn old to behave so ridiculously with regards to his feelings. It may be ingrained in him, behaviors and safety nets he'd constructed over his 30+ years to protect himself, but that didn't mean he didn't want to try and change. It was exhausting, being so protective of his feelings all the time and he just wanted to be as free with them as Justin was. If he couldn't be more open with Justin then he really was doomed.

"I'm glad you called," Justin responded, and Brian felt instant relief, "I've missed hearing your voice, too."

"Pathetic," Brian mumbled and he smiled when Justin laughed.

"Lesbionic," Justin responded softly and then it was Brian's turn to laugh.

"What else is wrong, Brian," Justin asked after a long pause and Brian badly wanted to tell him everything else. He wanted to tell him about the whole Michael/JR/Lindsay custody fiasco, about his fears regarding the upcoming HIV test, about his trepidation over Sam and the night he couldn't remember. But in the end he didn't. He kept it all inside, choosing instead to address the one thing that was a minor blip on his radar, the one thing that he knew he was safe from, having gotten the official test results a few days earlier. The one thing he could take some joy from reporting the news of.

"I went to the doctor a few days ago," Brian started, "for my annual cancer screening."

"Shit, are you okay?" Justin immediately asked his voice no longer soft or tender but slightly panicked.

"Yes, all clear," Brian replied and he heard Justin exhale loudly.

"Fuck! First of all, lead off with the 'I'm okay' part. Shit. I think you just scared ten years off my life expectancy. Jesus."

"Don't be so dramatic," Brian said, breathing out a soft laugh.

They were quiet for a while, just sitting on the phone. Brian could just hear Justin breathing, and it was soothing. He felt himself relaxing into the sound, the rhythm easing him closer to welcome sleep.

"How are you? Doing okay?" Brian asked finally, his words slurring as he edged towards sleep.

"As okay as can be expected," Justin answered and Brian wasn't quite sure how to interpret that response. "But much better now."

Brian felt a wave of relief, unaware he'd been so nervous about the phone call. Before he'd dialed he couldn't help but wonder if maybe Justin felt he was better off without Brian? But, based on his reaction to the call it would seem that was not the case, which was a relief because no matter what happened in the days, weeks, months to come, Brian could now recognize that _he_ was not better off without Justin. He finally could take Sam's words at face value and to heart. He made a silent promise to himself that he would be Justin's greatest ally – no matter what that meant for their future. He promised himself he wouldn't question or argue with the other man if, or when, he decided to leave New York and come back to Brian.

Brian had to let Justin determine the course he took. Brian could not do it for him. He finally understood that. Justin was and should be his own man, and by treating him as such Brian was doing all he could to secure their potential future together.

* * *

The morning after the July Fourth holiday, Brian returned to work feeling rested despite the emotional evening. He and Justin had actually talked for what felt like the first time in at least a year. Brian listened as Justin told him about the various meetings he'd been to and had upcoming with some of the galleries around the city. No one had expressed interest in actually showing his stuff yet, but everyone so far had been very complimentary and had given him a lot of helpful feedback and insight. Brian was happy to hear Justin actually sounded excited about his art – for the first time since he'd gone to New York.

Brian had tried to add to that feeling by telling Justin his thoughts on the latest issue of Rage. Namely that he loved it, and thought it was the best issue so far, aside from the first one anyway. Justin accepted Brian's praise willingly, and then excitedly launched into a ten minute breakdown of the next three issues which would cover the entire arc of Shadow-Man. Brian listened with a bemused expression on his face, the excitement and earnest joy in Justin's voice giving Brian even more of a lifeline to hold on to. It wasn't until the time neared 2 am that Brian regretfully said goodnight to Justin. He had been partially hoping they could engage in some hot phone sex, but Brian didn't want to sully their conversation with that.

Despite no release, Brian slept soundly and was, for the first time in a long time, not looking at his day at Kinnetik as an escape from everything else going on his life. He was actually feeling hopeful. It seemed the little mini-break with Justin, willingly entered into by both parties, had been beneficial after all. Who would have thought?

Brian, greeting his bewildered employees with what was, for him, a cheery 'Good Morning', was just settling in at his desk to begin going through his emails and compile ratings and feedback for the first week of ads for White Water Pale Ale when his cell phone rang.

He intended to let it go to voicemail but when he saw Gina's name on the caller ID he felt a momentary stab of fear before he moved to answer the call. She had never called him on his cell phone before and Brian immediately worried Gus had been hurt, or worse...

His fear dissipated quickly when Gina explained the emergency, which was not to do with Gus but rather with her younger brother. It seemed he had been involved in a serious car accident and Gina needed to leave immediately to return home to St. Louis. She couldn't tell Brian for sure how long she would be gone, only that her brother was critically injured and she would be gone for as long as it was until they knew he would be okay.

Brian understood, but that didn't mean he wasn't frustrated. He asked her to wait for him and then as quickly as he could he packed up the things he might possibly need for work for the next few days and headed home. Thankfully, the major push for the Sutton Brewery campaign was over and there were only a few last minute adjustments to the ads that needed to happen over the next week. That he could easily handle from home if need be.

Gina's car was packed and ready to go when Brian drove up the long driveway of the house, and after a quick conversation, she was on the road.

Brian shared a look with Gus, smiling at his son in an attempt to alleviate his stress. He looked a little anxious at Gina's sudden departure and Brian worried he'd revert back to his old habits, refusing to let Brian out of his sight and having panic attacks at every turn.

Because of that, Brian's first order of business upon Gina's quite sudden departure was to try and find a temporary solution to the issue of who could watch Gus during the day. He didn't trust just anyone – in fact he trusted hardly anyone – and so that left him with precious few options. He tried Debbie first of course, but she was scheduled the day shift at the diner for the next two weeks and while the offer to have Gus keep her company there all day was appreciated, Brian didn't think that was appropriate nor would it be good for him. Debbie suggested calling Ben since he was off for the summer and spent many of his days home with JR. Brian knew it was the best option, but after the argument they'd had at the diner he wasn't sure he could, or that he wanted to.

His precious few friends and tiny list of reliable sources nearly exhausted, it was the last name on his list that finally offered a solution to the problem.

One hour later Brian and Gus were sitting with Jennifer and Molly Taylor at The Liberty Diner.

"Gus here needs someone to keep him company for the next week, maybe two," Brian sipped his coffee while Gus concentrated on the games on the back of his placement.

"I have a busy week, I don't think I'll have the time," Jennifer said, smiling adoringly down at Gus.

"What about Molly here?" Brian smiled at the young teen.

Brian and Jennifer had worked out this little scripted exchange on the phone earlier when she'd told Brian as much as she'd love to watch Gus she really did have work. She had showings every day and they were all over the city. She didn't think Gus would appreciate being carted all across town for an entire week. She then suggested her daughter and while Brian was hesitant at first he couldn't help but think that with a mother like Jen and a brother like Justin she had to be trustworthy. He conveniently ignored who her father was… Jennifer did warn Brian that Molly was in her sullen teenager phase and would likely need some gentle coaxing before she'd agree to help.

Brian had only just met Molly right before they'd sat down to have lunch together and it was a little strange. He had heard about her from Justin of course, but he'd never seen her before – not even a picture. He felt a little shitty that he'd never bothered to even ask Justin, or Jen for that matter, about her before. He had never shown any interest in her existence. She had been a little girl when Brian and Justin had first met so there was little reason to ask or know, but even after they started planning their wedding still he didn't ask or even remember she existed…Brian wondered if Molly would have even been in attendance had they gone through with it.

As for Molly, well she looked just like her mother but Brian could see Justin in her, too. Specifically in the way she stared at him with a slightly annoyed expression. She had just turned fifteen and was acting, at the moment, very appropriately as such.

"I can pay you, very well," Brian smiled at the teen.

"You don't really have any summer plans, do you honey?" Jennifer turned to her daughter. Her tone was sickeningly sweet and Brian was amazed that Molly hadn't called them out on their pathetic attempt to play her. Or maybe she couldn't tell that it was all a setup? Brian wasn't sure either way.

Molly shrugged, "Going to the mall. Hanging out with my friends."

Brian bit his lower lip to hide a growing smile. She was definitely a teenager.

"I'll pay you a hundred bucks a day," Brian leaned forward, his forearms resting on the table, "you can buy a lot of new clothes with that kind of money."

_Especially at Hot Topic or Forever 21 or wherever the fuck you kids shop these days…_he thought with a tiny smirk.

Molly's eyes widened slightly in apparent interest and Brian did smile then.

"I guess," Molly shrugged with her agreement but her feigned indifference was obviously for show. Brian didn't let on that he knew, though he had to work to hold back from laughing while he resisted meeting Jennifer's gaze, also in fear of breaking out in to laughter.

"You can watch him at my loft," Brian said once he'd regained his composure, "if your mom can drop you off in the morning I'll meet you there with Gus. Then I can take you back home when I get off work."

Jennifer was looking between Molly and Brian, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"Whatever," Molly shrugged again, but there was little attitude left in her. Her posture was slightly straighter and there was a new gleam in her eye that Brian knew had to be related to all the dollar signs she saw in her immediate future. A fifteen year old could buy a lot of things and see a lot of movies on the money Brian would be paying her.

"Gus," Brian leaned back in the booth and stretched his arm across the back of the bench, leaning down towards his son, "what do you think about hanging out with Molly here for a few days, until Gina comes back?"

Gus looked up at Brian before turning to look at Molly. The young woman had the presence of mind to offer Gus a smile that lit up her face instantly. For a moment Brian was slightly caught off-guard. While it wasn't as brilliant as Justin's grin, Molly had a definite "Sunshine" quality going for her.

"Does she like Finding Nemo?" Gus looked back up at him as he asked and Brian, who hadn't heard Gus mention that movie now for a few days, shrugged.

"Why don't you ask her?"

Gus looked back at Molly and after a long silence he did just that, "Do you like Finding Nemo?"

"Yeah! It's only like, my favorite movie from when I was a kid," Molly grinned wider and Brian met Jennifer's amused gaze. She was still a kid, at least to the two adults at the table, though she obviously didn't see it that way herself.

"Do you like to draw?" Gus asked then, and Molly grinned.

"I have like all of my brother's old art supplies," she said gleefully, "I totally love to draw."

"Okay," Gus looked up at Brian with a smile and with that settled the foursome enjoyed the rest of their lunch.

Brian wanted to make sure Gus was comfortable with Molly, so after lunch he suggested they walk to the nearby park where Gus dragged Molly off to play on some of the equipment. Brian and Jennifer sat on a nearby bench in silence, just watching them. Gus was running around laughing and Molly, out from under the direct scrutiny of her mother and Brian, transformed. No longer inhibited she chased Gus and laughed along with him. Brian thought if nothing else, Gus had a new friend to help him through the never-ending rough patches he seemed to be experiencing.

"Have you talked to Justin recently?" Jennifer said, breaking the long silence that had settled between and surprising Brian from his thoughts.

"Uh, yes, actually," he said slowly, avoiding her stare as he kept his eyes on Gus and Molly.

"So you know about this HIV scare," she asked and Brian felt his pulse quicken. Her tone wasn't quite questioning, yet it wasn't quite accusatory. If she asked him directly he wouldn't be able to lie; not to her; not about this.

"I do," he said slowly.

"He's okay so far, thank God, but it's still scary for a mother to hear."

Brian nodded. He could see Jennifer, out of the corner of his eye, watching him. Shit – he could tell by her stare that she knew or at least suspected the real truth of the situation. Brian remained silent though – she was a proper country club wasp and if Brian didn't lead her on or give her his permission to broach the topic she wouldn't bring it up – no matter how much as she may want to ask him about it, or yell at him for it, or threaten him for hurting her son. She wouldn't do any of that as long as Brian remained calm and quiet and didn't let on…

"You must be okay too," she added.

Shit. Brian sighed internally, _so much for that plan_. He turned to look at her and without a word just nodded.

Jennifer's hand reached out then, grasping one of Brian's and squeezing.

"I'm glad," she said.

Surprisingly, her voice was lacking any anger or malice and Brian felt himself honestly wondering when he'd become someone that she genuinely cared about. He knew she didn't necessarily hate him, but getting this reaction from her was surprising; it was nice.

They fell back into silence then, though Jennifer continued to hold Brian's hand until Brian called Gus over and they parted ways, agreeing to meet up at 7:30 am the following morning at the loft where Molly would stay with Gus for the day.

The temporary arrangement worked well the first few days, and Gus really took a liking to Molly. As far as Brian could tell, they spent the days watching cartoons, playing games, and doing art projects. The loft was quickly wall-papered with all sorts of drawings, both from Gus and from Molly. She wasn't as talented as Justin in that regard, but she was pretty good. Brian was glad they got on so well. He'd been afraid that yet another change to the established routine would do some harm to his son's healing.

One night a few days later, after Brian had put Gus to bed, Justin called him, sounding a little buzzed but also immensely happy. Brian smiled as the blonde rambled on about having had a few too many shots of Beam with his roommate, who he had slowly started to befriend. They had bonded, apparently, over long-distance relationships. She had a boyfriend in Baltimore that was interning for a Senator for the summer and neither of them enjoyed being apart from their boyfriends; so they commiserated over drinks. Lots and lots of drinks.

"Oh, my mom tells me that Molly is completely in love with you," Justin said after he'd finished talking about drinking to long-distance love, his shithole apartment, and what it was like living with Daphne's friend.

Brian laughed at that. He had figured as much with the way she paid rapt attention to him when he'd get back to the loft from work. She was also constantly smiling and tossing her long, bright blonde hair over her shoulders.

"She does know I'm gay, right?" Brian asked, amused but also hoping Justin and Jennifer weren't playing along for the sake of a joke.

"Oh she knows," Justin giggled and Brian felt his cock swell at the sound, "she knows you and I are…long-distance. Or whatever."

"Whatever we are, I know that I'm fucking horny as hell," Brian growled into the phone as he reached into his shorts and gripped his quickly stiffening cock. "So how about we take care of that little problem, hmmm Sunshine?"

* * *

The end of the week saw Brian waiting, once again, while Gus had his therapy session with Marty. Instead of bringing Gus out when he was finished though, Marty came out alone.

"Where's Gus," Brian stood from the chairs in the waiting area.

"He's in the playroom," Marty smiled reassuringly and Brian felt some of his immediate panic abate, but only just slightly. "I wanted to talk to you for a moment."

Brian nodded curtly and followed as Marty led him back to his office. The windows were directly west-facing so the afternoon sunlight was streaming in and brightening up the space. Brian saw a thick stack of papers on top of Marty's desk and immediately recognized Gus's handwriting and drawing style. If an almost five-year old could have a drawing style…

"Please," Marty moved to sit behind his desk while Brian sat in one of the cushy chairs in front of the desk.

"Is something wrong?" Brian asked, unable to wait to hear why Marty had brought him in to talk.

"No, not at all," Marty smiled again and another little bit of Brian's nervous anxiety released.

"I just wanted to check in with you, and give you a progress report," Marty folded his hands on top of the stack of papers.

"Okay," Brian arched an eyebrow and waited.

"Overall, Gus is doing a lot better. I think we've worked through the worst of it but there's still a lot of fear within him. Fear of abandonment," Marty unfolded his hands and placed them palms down on the stack of papers before him.

"Part of my therapy process is drawing and painting. Many times it's easier for kids, especially the really young ones like Gus, to explain, if you will, what they're feeling through pictures since most of the time they don't have the vocabulary to explain their emotions with words."

Brian nodded. It made sense.

"You mentioned when you brought him to me that he had an obsession with the film Finding Nemo," Marty thumbed through the stack of papers and handed Brian several, "I've been trying to get Gus to draw what it is about Finding Nemo that he likes so much. These are the results."

Brian looked through the drawings. They were all very similar and they all depicted Nemo with his one little fin swimming alongside Merlin. Sometimes Dory was there, and sometimes there was another clown fish drawn in the picture.

"As you know, he's drawn to the father/son aspects of that movie, and that's where the most work is yet to be done. As I said before, his fear of abandonment, while lessening, is still there and quite strong especially with regards to you. All the people that keep coming into and out of his life don't help in this regard."

"Who's this supposed to be," Brian held up one of the drawings and pointing to the third clown fish.

"According to Gus, sometimes it's his mother, and sometimes it's Justin," Marty said and Brian nodded, biting into his cheek to keep from betraying any emotion.

"Gus told me today that his nanny, Gina, had to leave," Marty took the stack of pictures back from Brian.

"Yes, her brother was in an accident," Brian nodded, "she'll be back though."

"And while I think Gus logically understands that, emotionally for him she's yet another person who was there and now isn't. What will help him, what he needs most, is stability."

Brian opened his mouth to protest, to explain he was doing the best he could under very difficult circumstances but Marty held up a hand to stop him.

"I know," he simply said, "you're doing the best you can and I have to tell you, you're doing a hell of a lot more than a lot of parents I have in here would. I'm just telling you what would benefit Gus the most right now. Whether it's feasible to make any more changes, I don't know. But you need to be informed regardless."

Brian crossed his arms, feeling defensive. He _was_ doing the best he could. Wasn't he?

"I'd also like to start including you in our sessions, starting next week," Marty added. "Just for the first half-hour. I think it'd help Gus to have you there."

"Oh fuck no," Brian's knee-jerk reaction was out of his mouth before he had time to check himself.

Marty simply raised an eyebrow at Brian's vehement response.

"Sorry doc," Brain shook his head, his mind flashing through scene after scene of his childhood, pathetic and traumatic in its own ways. Jack hitting him, Joan belittling him, Claire hiding behind him as he took the brunt of their physical and emotional abuse in order to protect her. He couldn't go there…not ever again. Not for anything.

"No," he reiterated.

"It's your decision of course. But if you change your mind…," Marty nodded and Brian pretended not to see the pitying expression on the other man's face as he seemed to conclude why Brian had responded the way he did.

* * *

Gina called Brian the next day, Saturday, to let him know that her brother had just come out of a coma. She didn't want to leave just yet, but promised she'd be back by the following weekend, at the latest. Brian told her to take her time before he called Mother Taylor to let her know he'd be requiring Molly's babysitting services for at least another week's time. Jennifer had laughed when Brian told her that Justin had ratted on his sister about the crush. She insisted it was innocent enough and that Molly knew she stood no chance so it really was just a phase, something all teenagers go through. Then Jennifer invited Brian and Gus to have dinner with her and Molly on Sunday. Surprised, having never been invited to dinner by Jennifer before, Brian agreed. He had promised Gus a trip to the zoo and he thought dinner with Jen and Molly would cap the day off perfectly.

Sunday Brian took Gus to the zoo, and the little boy was ecstatic with the trip. It was, Brian learned, his first time going to a zoo. Brian found that surprising; he'd have assumed Mel and Linds would have taken him many times both in Pittsburgh and in Toronto. In any case, Gus was enamored of all the animals, but found the giraffe's to be the most interesting. The zoo offered visitors the opportunity to feed the giraffes, for a small fee. Of course Gus was thrilled to take part in this activity, and squealed with delight as the animal's long, sticky tongue grabbed the leaves from his hand. Brian even found himself laughing and getting caught up in the excitement of it all. Later, he purchased from the gift shop two copies of the official photo of Gus with the giraffe, and picture frames to match. One for himself and one for Lindsay. He didn't consciously realize that it was the first time he had ever behaved in such a manner, or had bought into the sentimentality of a day spent with anyone. All he knew was that it had been a great bonding exercise for Gus and himself. Later, leaving the zoo, Brian purchased an annual pass so that Gina could bring him back if he wanted, at any time. The joy he'd seen on his son's face had been enough to dispel all the darkness and shadows for the day. Brian thought of nothing but keeping Gus happy, and enjoying every moment he could.

When they pulled up to Jennifer's townhome that evening, Brian noticed Molly just down the street playing with two younger boys and a large, yellow lab. The three kids were throwing a bright yellow tennis ball down the narrow street and the dog was sprinting after it, returning it to them before they threw it again and it ran off after it again.

"Gus! Come play!" Molly yelled as Brian let Gus out from the back seat of the car.

Gus looked at Brian hopefully and Brian just nodded. Gus ran down the street, meeting the yellow lab partway as it caught the tennis ball. The lab ran to Gus, shaking its entire body with excitement while Gus wrapped his arms around its neck.

"Hi," Jennifer's voice startled Brian and he looked toward the doorway of Jennifer's home to see the blonde standing in jeans and a tank top, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. Brian had never seen her dressed so casually and he grinned at her, approaching the front door.

"This look suits you," he added with a smirk. Jennifer gently punched his shoulder as he passed her, entering the townhome.

"Nice place," Brian said after he'd climbed the narrow stairs in the entry and looked around the living area.

Brian had never been inside Jennifer's home before, having only seen it a few times from the outside when he'd come to visit Justin right after he was released from the hospital. It was a cozy place, stylishly decorated but also homey. There were a lot of photos of Molly and Justin, and even one of Brian and Justin together.

"I'm hoping to sell within the year," Jennifer said as she moved into the kitchen. Brian followed, the scent of lasagna assaulting his senses and his stomach grumbled at the thought of food.

"I'm finally making enough to move into a larger place," she smiled as she offered Brian a glass of red wine.

"With Tucker?" Brian accepted the wine and sipped, watching as a blush crept up Jennifer's cheeks.

"Maybe," she smiled and Brian laughed.

"You look good today," Jennifer said then, leaning her hip against the kitchen counter and taking a drink of her wine.

"Today was a good day," Brian answered, "Gus had a great time at the zoo. I think I need to take him there more often."

"Fatherhood suits you, you know," Jennifer's smile was genuine and bright and for a brief moment Brian let himself bask in the compliment, forgetting to slip on his mask of nonchalance. It was freeing and he realized suddenly that after this dinner he would not be able to wear that mask in front of Jennifer ever again. She would know his secret identity. But if truth be told, Brian was growing weary of the mask. With Gus it was easy to be himself, so why was it so hard with anyone and everyone else? He'd let Justin in slowly, and by accident Debbie. Even Michael had seen some of what was behind the mask but right now, in this moment, Jennifer was seeing what precious few had ever seen. And it wasn't as terrifying as Brian might have thought.

"Gus makes it easy," Brian shrugged off the compliment but realizing it was true. He had a great kid.

Dinner with Jennifer and Molly was something Brian had never experienced before. It wasn't like the dinners Deb would host at her house. There was no talk of sex or tricks or anything remotely rated higher than PG. It was, Brian guessed, what a real family dinner might be like. He was relaxed, and having fun, and allowing himself to laugh and take part in what a year ago he would have scoffed at being a decidedly "hetero" evening.

When he left Jennifer's he spent the drive back to the house imagining that he could actually see himself living a life like that someday.

Gus, who promptly fell asleep as soon as Brian started the car to drive home, didn't wake even as Brian lifted him from the car and carried him upstairs. It seemed Gus had had a wonderful day, too. The zoo, the dinner, the dog. Much of the dinner conversation had been Gus regaling the table of story after story of how the dog, named Chewy because the two little boys who owned him were obsessed with Star Wars, would chase blindly after the tennis ball and run haphazardly into things in order to get it. Gus found it hilarious.

As Brian stripped a sleeping Gus of his dirty and sweaty clothes, he began to seriously consider the good it might do for Gus to have his own pet. He knew pets were good companions for the elderly so he could only imagine the same being true for young children. He couldn't believe he was actually considering getting a dog, but after the day they'd had and the pure happiness he'd seen on Gus's face it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

* * *

Another week of Molly watching Gus at the loft passed uneventfully, and Jennifer even asked Brian if they'd like to come over for dinner again. He accepted the invitation, but they didn't set a date just yet. Brian wondered if some of Jennifer's attention to him was due to prompting by Justin, but decided it didn't matter. She was giving Gus, and Brian, a taste of normalcy in their otherwise hectic and stressful world. It was a welcome distraction.

Thursday of that week was Brian's three-month HIV test. He and Justin hadn't spoken again since the last call, and Brian didn't plan to call again until he could report his current HIV status. He'd been sufficiently distracted from worrying about the test, with carting Gus to and from Pittsburgh and working on his new account – a line of cosmetics for men.

Thursday night also saw Gina return to the house. Gus was ecstatic to see her, and she reported that though her brother was still in ICU, he was on the mend and should be okay. Brian told her she could have Friday off to unpack and get resettled, and he then called Jennifer to let her know the following day would be the last he'd need Molly's assistance.

That Friday was unexpectedly emotional for Gus, and for Molly. Gus had cried when Brian told him that Molly wouldn't be watching him anymore. He practically begged Brian to let her come over and visit. Brian, in chatting with Jennifer after he'd dropped off a teary-eyed Molly, made plans to get Gus and Molly together at least once a week if possible. It was not only important because they'd formed a special bond, but because Brian couldn't tear yet another person out of Gus's life so suddenly. Gus couldn't handle that emotional stress – as evidenced by what Marty had told Brian the week prior, and what Brian had observed for himself.

* * *

After a weekend that consisted of visiting Lindsay and having dinner once again at Jennifer's, Brian started his week off back on his normal schedule. For the first time in two weeks he left Gus at home, in his pajamas and with his nanny, to go to work.

That afternoon, when Brian met up with Gina and Gus to visit Lindsay, he was surprised to walk into her hospital room to find Michael and Ben hovering over Lindsay, who was holding a giggling JR on her lap.

Brian had been excited to tell Lindsay that Gus had been accepted into the private school she'd found in the nearby town of Weirton, WV*. About a month earlier, Brian and Gus had visited the school, at Lindsay's behest, and that very morning Brian had received the call that Gus was one of the twelve new students they were accepting for their Kindergarten class that fall. The school was small and private and while it taught all the same curriculum as any other public or private school in the state, it also offered more intense focus on the arts and Lindsay was anxious and excited to foster Gus's love of drawing and painting. Brian agreed, seeing how much having that for an outlet had been helping Gus heal from the trauma of the last six months.

"Hey," Brian said with some trepidation as he watched Gus rush to his baby sister and immediately start tickling her chin and baby-talking to her. It was amazing watching her reactions to him and Brian only felt more guilt at his role in preventing Gus from knowing his sister better.

"Hi!" Lindsay's tone was ecstatic and her smile bigger than any he'd seen on her face for months.

"What's going on?" he asked, his eyes moving to Michael quickly before going back to Lindsay. He'd completely forgotten about his own good news.

"We've come to an understanding," Lindsay smiled at Michael before she looked at Brian, "for now anyway."

Brian quirked his eyebrow and waited for someone to fill him in on this wonderful plan that was in place, "for now".

"JR will live with Michael and Ben most of the time, but I'll get her every other weekend for four days. Once I get released," Lindsay smiled at JR as the little girl bounced on her thighs. Brian wondered if Lindsay could feel any of it, and he also wondered how badly she might be bruised come tomorrow.

"It's the best I can do right now," Michael said, though Brian wasn't sure if it was for his benefit, or to reassure Lindsay, or if Michael was trying to convince himself.

"For now, it's enough," Lindsay smiled and kissed the baby on the head, "I just want to see her."

"Well I'm glad you all could agree to something," Brian said. He wasn't entirely sure it would play out to everyone's satisfaction but it was better than what had been the plan before. So Brian let it go for the moment, to let Lindsay have her small victory.

"We should go," Ben said then, avoiding Brian's gaze as he spoke to Michael before leaving the room without another word.

Michael just nodded, looking at Brian before he leaned over to pick up JR.

"I'll bring her back on Wednesday," Michael said to Lindsay before turning and walking out with the baby. He too said nothing to Brian.

"Well that was awkward," Lindsay rolled her wheelchair to where Brian was standing while Gus wandered over to his usual spot and opened up his coloring book.

"Whatever," Brian felt the familiar nonchalance slip into place even though he wanted nothing more than to run after Michael and make peace. He hated when he fought with his friend and it seemed like it was all they'd done for the last year.

"So how the fuck did it happen?" Brian asked.

"I don't know," Lindsay shook her head, smiling and shrugging, "when I got back from physical therapy they were here waiting so I didn't really think to ask what had changed their minds. I was just so fucking happy to see JR. I feel like she grew several inches since I last saw her."

Brian nodded, not wanting to rain on his friend's parade but he was also feeling a little cautious. He couldn't bear to see Lindsay's heart break again, so he made plans to pay Michael a visit and find out why he'd changed his mind. And maybe he could make peace with his friend, too.

"It's not ideal, but what more can I ask from them? It's not like I have the same mobility as before to chase her around? It's not like I have any actual legal rights to have her in my life," Lindsay sighed, "but they're giving me a chance to be with her so I have to take it. Right?"

Brian shrugged. It was up to her, of course.

"It's your call, Linds," he said.

* * *

It was just after another relaxing weekend of hanging out at home with Gus and Gina buy the pool when Brian got his three-month HIV test results back. There had been a delay with the test results because of the some mechanical problems at the lab. So Brian was extra anxious by the time he got the call. He needn't have been as he was negative. It was what he'd expected but it was still a huge relief. Brian was really looking forward to the day when he would be able to put this entire mess behind him. When he could fuck whoever, whenever, wherever; or rather – when he could fuck Justin.

Only a few more months and one more test and then he could be with his Sunshine once again.

Brian called Justin to tell him his good news, he was negative, but he got Justin's voicemail. Figuring he was painting, Brian left him a message with his result, asking him to call back when he could.

Still feeling good from the negative test results and knowing at this point he was almost certainly in the clear, Brian decided to check in with Sam.

They'd not been in contact since he'd left Pittsburgh, and while they had a teleconference scheduled for the following week to talk about the next campaign for Sutton Brewery, Brian didn't think discussing his HIV status would be appropriate to talk about on company time.

Dialing the other man's cell, Sam picked up on the third ring and Brian heard noisy, restaurant sounds in the background.

"Hi Brian," Sam answered and Brian could immediately tell he was with someone, probably Jake. His tone was very professional, impersonal.

"Sam. Am I interrupting something?" Brian teased.

"Just having a business lunch," Sam replied.

Brian heard the phone move away from Sam's mouth and then softly he could hear Sam excusing himself from the table.

"What's going on?" Sam asked as the restaurant noises faded. Brian heard a door open and close and then the background noise transitioned to sounds of traffic moving.

"I thought you'd like to know my three month test came back negative," Brian replied and he heard Sam offer a loud sigh.

"That's great," he said, "I'm glad. And Justin?"

"I haven't heard yet," Brian answered, "but what are the chances for him to be positive and not me?"

"Pretty slim I suppose," Sam answered with some hesitation and Brian immediately knew what he was thinking.

"Justin isn't the type to trick around. Not like me," Brian said, feeling the need to defend Justin's honor. If Justin did test positive Brian would have to eat his words but he knew that blonde – Justin would never fuck someone without a condom and Brian didn't think he'd fucked more than one or two people other than Brian in the last year. No – Justin was the safer one.

"Sure," Sam said, his tone appeasing and Brian bit back a snarky retort. He didn't call Sam to argue over Justin's virtue.

"How's life back in Toronto," Brian asked, suddenly unsure of why he'd called. He had wanted to tell Sam his status but now what? How soon he could hang up without being too rude?

"Same. Jake and I are living together again. It's amazing what dealing with doctors and blood-tests and protocols can do to bring two people back together," Sam said.

Brian continued to marvel at Sam's ability to go back to the man who had caused him all this grief to begin with. He must really love him a lot. Though it was not really any different than the scores of times Brian took Justin back. Brian hadn't said the words or even acknowledged his own feelings all those times, but looking back he could see that was why he'd let Justin back in. Because he'd loved him. Not just because he was an amazing fuck and the only one who could give as well as he got.

"I've got to get back inside," Sam said then, breaking the awkward silence, "it was good talking to you, Brian. I guess we'll be in touch next week for work."

"Yeah," Brian responded, relieved the other man was cutting the call short, "I'll talk to you later."

When Brian hung up the phone he almost instantly got a text from Justin; _got ur mssg. On way 2 meeting gallery. am neg 2. Talk 2 u soon. Luv u, J._

* * *

**A/N - *This town exists but whether they actually have some high-society, expensive private school I have no idea. I claim artistic license.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	16. Nobody's Fault But My Own

"I can go home in one week," Lindsay was grinning brightly from her wheelchair.

Brian paused in the doorway of her room. He had been expecting this news to come eventually, but one week? This, on top of the news that he and Justin had tested negative once again, gave Brian real reason to grin back at her.

"Did you hear that, Sonny-boy? Mommy's comin' home," Brian smiled at Lindsay as he ruffled Gus's hair.

"You're going to live with us, right mommy?" Gus moved towards his mother and when he got near Lindsay pulled him to her, lifting him to her lap.

"Yep," she smiled at him, "that's okay, right?"

"Yeah!" Gus grinned, "We can do art and stuff. Right daddy?"

"Yeah, of course," Brian smiled but inside he was wondering what to do. Gus's little makeshift art studio was upstairs – where Lindsay could not go. Her injury was healed, but she was still confined to a wheelchair. She had some very limited movement of her legs, but nowhere near the muscle strength or control to walk. It was unlikely she would ever gain that strength back, but there was always hope – at least that's what the doctors kept saying.

That night, after Brian put Gus to bed he immediately called Justin.

He'd been anxious to talk to him all day – ever since he got his text message about testing negative. It was reason to celebrate, along with Lindsay's homecoming, and Brian hoped Justin would be free to travel back to Pittsburgh for the occasion. He didn't figure it would be such a big deal for him to ask for time off from his pizza delivery job.

"How was your meeting today?" Brian asked as soon as Justin answered.

"Good," Justin replied, "I think they may want to display a few of my pieces. The gallery manager had to check with the owner though. I guess she has final approval of all the pieces, but he said he'd get back to me. The art in that place, though…it was fucking amazing. I would be lucky to get even one piece in there."

Brian grinned into the darkness of his bedroom. He was glad – it was about time someone took notice of Justin's work. He didn't think about what it might mean for Justin's return to Pittsburgh because, as Brian had to keep reminding himself, he had to let Justin make it, or not, on his own, and in his own time, and without any pressure or dictation from Brian.

"It's about time," he simply replied and Justin offered a small laugh.

"You should celebrate," Brian continued, running his hands along his abdomen trying not to imagine Justin lying in a similar state of undress on his bed in New York.

"With what money, and what friends?" Justin laughed.

"I thought you and…whatever the fuck her name is, were besties now," Brian teased with a smirk.

"We drank to long distance lovers one time. I wouldn't say we are friends. And we don'e exactly frequent the same types of bars or clubs," Justin said, his tone slightly annoyed and it made Brian grin wider. "In fact she doesn't go out much. It's too expensive. And her name is Annie."

"Whatever," Brian could care less, really, what her name was.

"Lindsay's getting released from the hospital next week," Brian changed the subject.

"She is? Wow, that's great. Gus must be over the moon," Justin said and Brian could hear in his voice the smile on his face.

"He's excited to do some more art with his mommy," Brian mumbled, feeling oddly morose over the prospect of having a wheelchair bound Lindsay in the house. It was one thing to see her in the hospital every day, sitting in the damned thing, but it would be another thing entirely to have her at home, still confined. It was easier to pretend it was all just temporary at the hospital. Brian didn't think it'd be so easy to pretend or ignore once she was in the house and in his face, all the time.

"What is it?" Justin's tone betrayed concern.

"She's still in that damned wheelchair," Brian sighed, feeling his semi-hard on begin to soften as he struggled to make sense of his conflicting emotions. "I hired a physical therapist to come out to the house three times a week to work with her so that's good. But that amazing makeshift art studio you set up for Gus will have to be moved. Lindsay can't go up the stairs."

"Well," Justin whispered, "she's coming home, and recovering, and she's alive. That's reason to celebrate."

Brian grunted his assent and they were quiet for a moment.

"So do you want to?" Brian asked.

"Do I want to what?" Justin sounded confused and Brian barked a laugh.

"Do you want to celebrate," Brain clarified.

"How, exactly?" Justin asked.

"Come back next weekend. I'll buy your tickets," Brian stated, partially as a request but also partially as a plea.

"I don't know-," Justin started but Brian cut him off.

"There's a third reason we need to celebrate," Brian said softly and purposefully, "we're both still negative. It's simply standard procedure to get one more test at 6 months but we're pretty much in the clear. I mean if that isn't reason enough to party I don't know what the fuck is."

"Shit," Justin sighed and Brian felt his stomach fall.

"What," he said, his tone slightly harder than he'd intended as his defenses involuntarily started to rise.

"I got a new job and I just don't know if my boss will let me take the weekend off. They're kind of our busiest nights," Justin said.

"You can't get another waiter to cover for you or something?" Brian asked and there was a long pause on the other end of the phone.

"Not really," Justin said slowly. "I don't work in a restaurant. Well, they do serve food but it's not like a normal restaurant."

"Fuck. What is it then," Brian sat up, his gut twisting as he imagined Justin dancing around a fucking pole for dollar bills. Promise or not, if Justin told him he was stripping for money Brain was going to throw a temper tantrum fit for the queenliest of drama queens. Hell, he may even go to New York and forcibly bring the other man back with him if that was the case. Art or not, if the only way he could make money was to sell his body in that way then it wasn't worth it. At least not to Brian.

"Uh, it's a place called Victor's. It's a, uh, it's a gentleman's club," Justin was obviously nervous to tell Brian about this new job, which did not make Brian feel any better about what his job actually might be.

"And what the fuck does that mean," Brian said calmly though his jaw was set tight and he felt the stirrings of a headache behind his eyes.

"Brian," Justin sighed and Brian leapt off the bed, starting to pace across his room. He was quickly losing all willpower to keep his mouth shut.

"Justin, if you're fucking stripping or dancing again-," he started, unable to control the protestation or veiled threat as the words burst forth from his lips.

"No!" Justin practically yelled into the phone, cutting Brian's rant off before he could properly get started.

"No," he repeated more calmly. "I'm not, okay?"

"Okay, Brian?" Justin repeated when Brian didn't answer.

"Yeah," Brain growled, sitting on the edge of his bed. Reaching into his nightstand he pulled out his cigarettes. He'd been trying to stop smoking, for Gus, but this was too much and he needed one to calm down.

"I promise. It's not like that," Justin said again, this time Brian could hear in his voice the plea for him to believe him.

Brian struck the flint of his lighter and held the flame up to the cigarette, ignoring the slight tremble in his hand while he inhaled the sharp, stinging smoke. The first inhale brought tears to his eyes. It had been nearly a month since he'd last smoked. When his lungs were full he exhaled and immediately felt a calm wash over him. At least the nicotine was good for something. It would keep him, he hoped, from saying something he might regret.

"What's it like, then," Brian prompted, sucking another long draw on the cigarette before moving to the window and throwing it open to let the stink of the smoke escape out into the night.

"A guy approached me on the street a few weeks ago -," Justin started, but paused when Brian issued a bitter laugh.

"Stop it," Justin's admonishment was soft spoken and cut to Brian's core. He silenced himself immediately.

"So a guy approached me and said he worked for this club and would I like to interview for a job," Justin continued.

Brian listened silently as Justin explained how he'd gone from delivering pizzas to bartending at what was apparently one of the swankiest gay strip clubs in New York. Brian was proud as Justin told him that he adamantly refused to dance, or do anything that might put him into direct contact with the customers. The man, the manager it turned out, was not to be deterred and admitted he was enamored of Justin's youthful appearance and looks and how much he would fit in with the clientele of the place. He continued to badger Justin for several blocks. Finally, just to shut the guy up, Justin agreed to visit the club. They went that afternoon, and Justin was surprised to find it really was a nice place; very classy and clean. But still Justin wasn't sure. He remembered what it had been like working for the Sap and he didn't want to get sucked back into that lifestyle. He had his art and his professional career to consider; they were his priorities. The manager was insistent, though, and only after promises of making a lot of money did Justin finally gave in. But his decision hinged on the condition of being guaranteed a job that would keep him at some distance from the customers. He'd had enough groping and touching to last him a lifetime. In fact he couldn't help but think of that damned party of the Sap's every time someone put their hands on him, uninvited, and Justin would rather never be reminded of that awful night. That was when the manager offered him a gig bartending and Justin, who had never mixed a drink in his life, accepted.

He'd just finished two weeks of training and was going to be working Wednesday through Saturday nights starting the upcoming weekend.

"The new guys never get the weekend shift. I don't see how I can ask for that time off when I just started. I'd lose my position for the weekend shift, for sure. And I'd lose so much money because I've seen what the other bartenders look like and trust me, and none of them have anything on me," Justin said and Brian sighed.

"Forget it," Brian stubbed the cigarette out in the small ashtray he had left on the windowsill from the last time he'd smoked.

"Brian," Justin sighed.

"Were you ever going to tell me about this new job?" Brian asked, trying to keep his annoyance out of his voice.

"I don't know," Justin sighed and Brian imagined he was rubbing his hand through his hair as he did when he was frustrated and confused, "I didn't know if we were ever going to talk to you again until you called me on Fourth of July."

Touché. Point, set, match, Justin Taylor.

"Fuck," Brian said, but without any malice or anger. "Fine. Just be careful, alright?"

"Don't worry I'll be okay," Justin said with a conviction that impressed Brian.

"I'm sure, but just humor me," Brian said back and Justin gave a soft laugh.

"Okay. Yes. I'll be careful," Justin's said his voice suddenly an octave lower than before, "happy now?"

"No," Brian said teasingly as he let his hand travel back down to his groin, "but I could be."

Justin's laughter brought a smirk to Brian's face and warmth to his heart.

* * *

Though he and Justin had engaged in some pretty hot and raunchy phone sex over the weekend, when Monday rolled around Brian was irritable once again. He wanted things in his life to settle; to be certain. It was a new feeling, one undoubtedly brought on by all the chaos and emotional turmoil currently in his life. But there it was. He'd had enough of the uncertainties and was beginning to crave some normalcy. Though he wondered how long he'd truly enjoy any normalcy once, or if, it ever settled on him. The grass was always greener after all…

There were a few things he was certain of though, and number one that list was his desire to come home and find Justin there – painting and waiting for him. He wanted to know he could throw the other man on the floor and fuck him anytime he wanted. He desperately wanted that. And the more he realized it was what he wanted, the more he wanted it, and the more he missed Justin. It was a vicious cycle. He had been counting on the younger man coming back for the weekend, assuming yet again that his schedule was as wild and free as it had always been. That Justin could just drop everything and come running when Brian called. Obviously that was not the case and Brian struggled to reconcile that this new job might mean a more permanent residence for Justin in New York, at least for the time being. The younger man hadn't said as much, but of course Brian – surprisingly pessimistic when it came to these "relationship" scenarios, just assumed that would be the case. Like when he had been in LA – why the fuck would Justin come back to Pittsburgh when he had all that city life in front of him? Especially as they neared the "all clear" mark for the HIV tests…then they'd both be free to go out, and fuck around, and then what? Brian, though desperate for something other than his hand to get him off, didn't want his first time back out there to be with a stranger. He wanted it to be with Justin. He had, in fact, been counting on maybe getting Justin into bed now that they were three months out and still negative. There was still, of course, a tiny chance of testing positive but the percentages were so far skewed in their favor that if Justin were willing, Brian would fuck his brains out for days and days and days. But it didn't seem like that was going to be an option anytime soon and Brian found the lost prospect incredibly frustrating.

His mood wasn't helped by the fact that when he called Emmett to offer him the job of catering a "Welcome Home" dinner for Lindsay that upcoming Friday night, the other man had squealed for nearly five minutes, or at least it felt that long to Brian, before immediately asking if Justin would be on the guest list. Brian told him to fuck off before he promptly hung up. Emmett called him back right away, laughing, but he didn't bring up Justin again. Instead he starting rambling off all the things he'd need for the dinner and the decorations; he still had all his grand ideas for a party out on the back patio at the house stored away in his head. It took Brian nearly another ten minutes to get Emmett to pause long enough to tell him he didn't fucking care. He gave Emmett full run of the show, an unlimited budget to work with, and told him he'd email him the guest list that afternoon. After that, Brian washed his hands of the whole affair.

Tuesday, Brian set out to take care of another chore. Something that he had a feeling would prove to be a bit more painful, at least to his pride. Brian, after he and Gus visited Lindsay and after Gina took Gus back to the house, stopped by Red Cape Comics to see Michael.

Tuesday afternoons were notoriously slow at the comic book store, at least from what Brian could remember, and this particular Tuesday was no different. When he walked in to the store, the over-the-door bell announcing his entrance, he wasn't surprised to find it empty of customers, and empty of Michael, at least upon first glance.

"Be right there!" he heard Michael yell from somewhere in the back.

Brian hovered near the rotating rack by the door where the latest issue of Rage was prominently featured along with some other "suggested" reading. Brian hadn't asked Justin about the comic and he curiously wondered if he and Michael were working on the next issue yet. If they were, Brian was sure Michael hadn't mentioned anything to Justin about his disagreement with Brian because Justin would certainly have asked him about it, had he known. But that begged the question; was Michael keeping quiet because he knew he was being a dick? Or because he knew he wouldn't get Justin on his side? Michael and Justin might be able to produce a fucking amazing comic together but they were still far from friends – at least not in the way that Justin was friends with Emmett, or Lindsay, or even Ted. In fact Brian wasn't even sure if Michael and Justin really liked each other all that much. They might have in the beginning; in fact he was sure they had because they'd have had to, to make Rage a success. Now though…Brian just wasn't sure any feelings of friendship between them were all that genuine.

"Can I help you-," Michael's voice carried ahead of him slightly as he came out of the back room, but when he saw Brian he stopped and his pleasant expression hardened just a little bit.

"Oh, hi," turning, Michael made a beeline for some apparent safety behind the counter.

"Hi," Brian smiled, trying to appear as friendly as he could. He was pretty sure he did not succeed based on the incredulous look Michael gave him.

"What are you doing?"

Brian let his smile fall and scowled.

"Look, Lindsay is being released from the hospital on Friday and I'm having a dinner party for her at the house. I know she'd love to see JR so...you and the professor should come," Brian cut to the chase and blurt out the whole thing in one breath.

"I don't know. I'll have to check with Ben," Michael thumbed through the pages of a Spider-man comic book that was resting on the countertop.

"Mikey," Brian stepped forward and pulled the comic away from Michael, "come on. Really?"

Michael's jaw clenched and Brian braced himself for some Mikey-branded wrath.

"Fuck you, Brian," Michael said, but there was no passionate anger behind it, he just looked sad.

"What did I do?" Brian arched an eyebrow and Michael laughed.

"I just want you to choose my side for once," Michael sighed, falling onto the stool that was positioned behind the counter.

"Are you fucking serious?" Brian took a step backwards. Michael just shrugged and looked at him expectantly.

"Michael. Shit," Brian turned his back to Michael, shaking his head and laughing softly.

"I've done nothing but be on your side from the first day I met you," Brian turned back to face his friend. "Christ! You're so fucking full of shit."

"But you didn't take my side when it mattered," Michael crossed his arms and leveled a stare at Brian that seemed to dare him to keep arguing.

Brian ignored the unspoken implication that all those times he had stood up for Michael and protected him from the assholes at school hadn't mattered, and focused on the current issue. It still surprised him how codependent Michael could be – even with his dreamy husband at home willing to put up with his shit.

"I didn't take your side, as you say, because you were wrong," Brian stated.

"You love JR. I get it. She's your daughter and you want her with you. But to take her away from Lindsay, just like that? With no discussion or compromise? When she was recovering from a devastating loss and a severe spinal injury? That was a fucking shitass thing to do. And you were wrong to do it."

Brian savored the tiny flash of guilt that briefly crossed Michael's face.

"Now I know she would want you there this Friday. Not just because of JR, but because she still considers you and Ben to be her friends. So, I hope you'll come," Brian backed to the door, intending to leave before Michael could goad him into saying something else, "seven o'clock."

The bell over the door was the only sound Brian heard as he quickly left the shop.

* * *

That Friday, Brian had Gina take Gus to his therapy appointment while he went to the hospital to pick up Lindsay. She was coming home with a lot of equipment as well as a wheelchair and as such, Brian had the sensible car while he had Gina driving his Corvette. It made him uncomfortable, but it was all he could do. He only thought about the option of renting another vehicle after it was already too late.

Gus had been so excited that morning, knowing his mother would be at home waiting for him when he got back from his appointment. Brian wondered what insight Marty might gain from the new developments and assumed he'd hear about it all in the next week.

Lindsay was understandably anxious when Brian picked her up. She had been living in hospitals, under professional medical care, for nearly four months. Returning to a normal life would likely not be as easy as just going home. Especially since she was going home to a place she'd never been before. Brian had shown her photos, and Gus had animatedly described the house and grounds but that wasn't the same as seeing it. Brian just hoped she would feel comfortable there. He'd tried to make her little suite of rooms as cozy as he could and with some help from Debbie he'd hung some of the familiar art and photographs from the house in Toronto, including Justin's amazing painting that he'd gifted the lesbians before they'd moved.

Still, she was quiet on the drive and Brian didn't press her to talk. He didn't appreciate it when people did that to him, so he figured she didn't want it either. Her reaction, too, to the dinner party had been a little less joyous than Brian had hoped. He'd sprung it on her on the drive home, and in retrospect he figured he probably should have asked her permission before inviting all their friends over the same day she was released from the hospital.

They pulled up to the house just over thirty minutes later and Brian had barely put the car into park when Gus was running out the front door, a wide grin on his face. Brian glanced at Lindsay and saw her smile in return, a single tear falling from her eye.

"I'll get the chair," Brian exited the car and pulled the collapsed wheelchair out of the trunk. Before he could even set it on the ground Gus was at the car, pulling open the passenger door and grabbing Lindsay's hands.

"Come on mommy!"

"Just a minute, Sonny-boy," Brian wheeled the chair over to the car and observed as Gus stared between it and his mother. Brian then realized Gus had never seen the chair without his mom in it, and he'd never seen his mom not in the chair.

_Fuck!_ Brian thought. Another thing he'd done wrong. He'd never properly explained to Gus that his mom couldn't walk. That she needed the chair to get around. That it was now a part of her.

Brian gently pulled Gus back from the car as he simultaneously rolled the chair so it was adjacent to the open car door. Locking the wheels he raised his eyebrows to Lindsay and she shook her head slightly. Brian nodded and stood back with Gus, resting his hands on his son's shoulders. They both watched as Lindsay used her upper body strength to slide out of the car and into the chair. She struggled just for a split second, but otherwise looked like she'd been moving herself about for years.

"Okay, I'm ready," she grinned at Gus and held out a hand.

"You can't move your legs, mommy?" Gus asked with a slight tilt of his head.

"Not really, Gus. But it's okay because I can move pretty fast in my fancy chair," Lindsay winked and Gus gave a small laugh before he slowly walked towards her and took her hand. Brian moved to the back of the chair and pushed, letting Gus offer the running commentary as they took her on a tour of the house – or at least the areas that she could access with the wheelchair.

A short while later Brian left her in her rooms with her bags so she could unpack and rest before the guests started arriving. He suddenly wished he'd scheduled the dinner for the following night, or even a week later. Lindsay appeared overwhelmed and tired and he didn't know how up for a night being social she would really be.

She must have seen something of his thoughts in his expression because she offered him a small smile as he turned to leave her to her unpacking.

"I'm glad to be here," she said and Brian nodded.

"We're glad you're here," he responded and they both understood the deeper meaning of his words. Brian didn't even want to consider what he'd have had to deal with and overcome if Lindsay had died in the accident along with Mel.

"I'll come get you when everyone starts arriving," Brian smiled and with a nod, he closed her door.

An hour later Emmett showed up with his small army of workers and they set about to transform the back patio of the house into a scene straight from a fairy tale. Even Brian was impressed with the level of detail that was paid. Everything was Lindsay's favorite - favorite flowers, favorite color, favorite wine, favorite food. Emmett even brought along an iPod filled with all of Lindsay's favorite music. Brian wondered how the hell he'd gotten all that information without tipping her off to the plans.

The guest list included all the usual suspects, as well as a few unusual ones like Lindsay's parents. They were the first to arrive (and Brian guessed they'd be the first to leave as well). Brian's invitation had come as a surprise to them. They had been to see their daughter off and on over the course of her recovery but never when Brian was there with Gus. They had also seen Gus a few times since Brian had brought him back from Toronto, but with Gus's emotional state those visits had been short, and as of lately had not occurred with any regularity. Still, when they arrived Gus greeted them like old pals, especially Lindsay's father. Gus seemed to have an odd sort of kinship to the older man and as Gus overcame his emotional trauma Brian intended to let him visit his maternal grandparents as much as he, or they, liked.

Upon their arrival Brian took them to Lindsay so they could visit together in private for a bit, leaving Gus with them as well. The remainder of the guests slowly began to arrive not long after; Ted and Blake were followed shortly by Debbie and Carl, and then about ten minutes later Michael and Ben showed up with JR (no Hunter – he was with his girlfriend as they were both headed off to different colleges in a few weeks).

Brian led Michael to Lindsay's rooms where she was still visiting with her parents, and left him there with the baby. The brief smile of pure joy he'd seen on Lindsay's face when she'd caught sight of the little girl was enough validation for Brian. He'd do everything he could to make amends with Michael and guarantee his friend could see her daughter.

The last of the invited guests, Jennifer and Molly, arrived more than fashionably late and when Brian saw why, he knew it had to have been by design.

The gathered group was already out on the patio, settling at the table and being served drinks and hors d'ouevres when Jennifer and Molly came strolling out. Gus stood from his place and screamed with joy, rushing to Molly and wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Sorry we're late," Jennifer moved to give Lindsay a hug before she stood and looked to Brian. She had an impish gleam in her eye.

"We had to pick something up."

Brian simply stared at her with an arched eyebrow when movement from the house caught his eye. Turning, Brian saw him – all blonde and smiling and looking fucking beautiful.

Justin.

He was grinning wide, and staring directly at Brian as if daring him not to come over and say hello in a decidedly Brian Kinney way – spectators be damned.

"Justin!" Gus exclaimed and in a display of affection that only a child could exhibit without fear of ridicule, he tore himself from Molly and leapt up into Justin's arms, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he did.

"Hey bud," Justin laughed and he'd barely set Gus back on the ground before he was immediately surrounded by everyone else, peppered with kisses on the cheek and hugs and even a few tears (courtesy of Debbie and Emmett).

Brian stayed in his seat, his heart racing. He was glad for the distraction of the other dinner guests because he wasn't sure he would have been able to control himself. Looking to the other end of the table, Brian met Jennifer's twinkling eyes and he gently shook his head, grinning at her.

As the hello's ended Brian pretended not to see everyone turn to look at him expectantly, and he pretended not to see the way Emmett's eyes welled up with tears, again, when he finally stood and walked over to Justin, kissing him hello in a decidedly non-PG-13 way.

They all settled back at the table after that, Justin taking over the spot next to Brian that had been previously occupied by Debbie, and while above the table Brian made sure to pay appropriate attention to all his guests, beneath the table his hand was on Justin's leg and their fingers were winding, and threading and gently tracing circles in the palms of the other man. As a result, Brian was sporting a raging hard on, and he guessed Justin was too.

After dinner and while Lindsay chatted with their friends, Brian pulled Justin away – retreating to the newly set-up art studio in what had previously been Brian's home office. The bookcases were now filled with framed art and paints and all other sorts of art supplies while the center of room featured a large table and chairs. Near the big, east-facing floor-to-ceiling windows were two easels, a tall one and a shorter one. At the other end of the wall of windows, a large, fluffy armchair, like those out in the TV room, sat with a lamp overhead.

"Did you do this?" Justin looked around as Brian pulled him into the room and closed the French doors to give them some privacy.

Brian didn't answer with words, instead he grabbed Justin's head and pressed their lips together, wanting to taste and touch all of him like he was an oasis in a desert. Brian's hands threaded through Justin's hair while he pressed his body up against him, desperate for contact and the feel of him.

"Brian," Justin pulled back, panting. His face was flushed and his eyes were clouded with obvious desire.

"I'm going fucking mad. I need to feel you. And touch you," Brian's eyes traveled up and down Justin's body, taking in his slim form and tight muscles, his smooth skin and swollen lips.

"I can't," Justin breathed, "not with everyone here."

Brian pressed his lips to the crook of Justin's neck, kissing, nibbling and tasting his way up, along his jaw and to his lips.

"Stay the night," Brian whispered between kisses.

"I can't," Justin panted and that caused Brian to pause and pull back while also taking an automatic step back in defense of his emotions.

"Why not?"

Justin's hands reached out and he pressed his palms to Brian's chest before he moved forward to close the small distance between them.

"I could only get tonight off," Justin's blue eyes were huge and they searched his face. Brian could see his apology in his look. "I have to fly back early tomorrow."

"Of course you do," Brian snorted a bitter laugh and backed away again.

"I'm sorry," Justin shook his head, "It's just I really need this job. I can actually pay rent and afford food and art supplies on my tips alone."

Brian nodded. He got it. He really did. He was just so fucking sexually frustrated and he _needed_ release somehow or he felt he might explode. And he knew it wouldn't be pretty if that happened.

"Have you heard back from that gallery?" Brian asked, changing the subject but knowing the answer to the question could largely influence what happened next, and into the future, for them both.

"Yeah, they gave me a spot for one painting," Justin smiled, "so now I just have to decide which one. I have a few options."

"Congratulations, Sunshine," Brian said softly, moving closer to Justin once more and stroking his cheek with his thumb.

"Might be this is your big break," he added as he lowered his lips to Justin's.

"Maybe," Justin responded softly, his arms reaching up and wrapping around Brian's neck as their lips met once again.

They kissed with purpose, and passion, but it was also tender. Brian tried to convey his longing in his touch, in the movement of his lips, in the gentle prodding of his tongue.

"Fuck, this is harder than I thought. I shouldn't have come," Justin moaned as they broke apart, their foreheads pressed together.

Brian laughed.

"What?" Justin asked, a smile playing on his lips.

"I don't want you to go back," Brian whispered. He kept his eyes closed. He didn't want to see the other man's reaction to the declaration.

Justin was quiet as his hands went to Brian's hair where they stroked and twirled and grabbed. He massaged Brian's neck before cupping his face and pressing soft kisses to his chin and jaw, breathing against his neck and generally driving Brian mad.

"For months you've been telling me, ordering me even, to go back, and now you want me to stay," Justin's voice was muffled against the skin of his neck.

Brian's long arms wrapped around Justin's torso and he didn't answer he just melted closer to Justin. The feel of the smaller man against him was so comforting, so close to anything that might define safety and home that Brian could recall in his life.

"I know you can't," Brian responded, purposeful in his choice of words. He wondered if Justin noticed. Probably he did. The little twat noticed everything where Brian was concerned.

"Yeah, you're right," Justin pulled his head back slightly and his hands, still on Brian's face, forced him to look at him. "I _can't_."

Brian rolled his eyes with a small laugh. Yeah, Justin understood.

"Fuck," Brian moved his head closer to Justin and kissed him again, desperate to taste him and feel him for as long as he could.

Brian's hands wandered down Justin's back before moving to his ass where he gently squeezed and massaged the full, round globes. Justin moaned softly into his kiss, lowering his arms to grip at Brian's ass in response. Brian was rock hard, and he could feel Justin pressing against his inner thigh as they kissed and touched. Brian was moments from sinking to his knees and freeing Justin's cock so he could suck him off when they were sadly interrupted.

"Daddy! Justin!" Gus's echoing yells through the house tore the two men apart and both out of breath, they attempted to compose themselves.

"Daddy!" Closer now, it sounded like the little boy was just outside the door.

Suddenly the doors were thrown open and Gus was there, Molly in tow grinning at them with a knowing smirk.

"Daddy!" Gus reached both hands out and grasped one of Brian's hands and one of Justin's hands. "Come on, it's time for cake!"

Brian exchanged a smile with Justin before letting Gus pull him from back to the patio. He didn't miss the playful slap Justin gave his smirking sister as they passed.

The dinner party began to break up soon after that, Lindsay's parents being the first to take leave; as Brian had known they would be. Soon thereafter Michael and Ben left with JR, Michael extending an invitation to Brian, Lindsay and Gus to come over for dinner that Thursday. Brian accepted, and felt like maybe he and Mikey were once more on their way to reconciling.

Debbie and Carl followed the Novotny-Bruckner's out leaving Jennifer, Molly and Justin. Jennifer had been partaking quite liberally of the wine all evening and as such was in no condition to drive. Even if Justin had been able to stay through the night there was no one who could take Jennifer and Molly home. So, even though Justin's flight wasn't until 6am, he had to take care of his mother and sister and so they too soon departed, but not before Lindsay pulled Justin away to have a private chat.

As Emmett, still present but now in a professional capacity, directed his crew to clean-up Brian sat at the table out on the patio with a drunken Jennifer and an amused Molly, the latter holding a sleepy Gus on her lap. Brian figured he should probably take the kid to bed, but he didn't think it would matter too much if he waited a little bit longer.

"You look happy, Brian," Jennifer grinned and Molly laughed.

"It was a good day," Brian responded, shooting Molly a warning look.

"Yeah, he and Justin were making out like teenagers," Molly chimed in with another laugh, causing Jennifer to grin more brightly.

"I'm glad," she turned to look at Brian again before she reached out both her hands to grasp one of his.

"You make him happy, and he makes you happy. You're happy together," her eyes started to tear up and Brian had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. "You should be together."

"Don't get weepy. And you know you're going to regret drinking all that wine come morning," Brian warned.

She was right, drunk or not. Brian wanted to be with Justin. Seeing him again after their time apart had cemented that for him. Yet the younger man was still discovering himself and trying to make a living at being an artist. It still wasn't quite the right time, and it wasn't quite the right circumstances. Not yet. Soon maybe, but that all depended on Justin. Brian knew what it was he wanted. He knew what it was he was striving for. He just hoped he could keep the goal in sight and not fuck things up…again, while he waited for Justin to come back. Because Brian was finally starting to believe he would, sooner or later.

He just had to be patient.

* * *

Brian didn't sleep well the nights following the dinner party for Lindsay's homecoming. He was concerned not only for her and how she was adjusting to life in the house with him, and Gus, and Gina, but also he was concerned about Justin and his new job. He trusted Justin to watch out for himself – he was no longer the arrogant 18-year old snorting coke and dancing for dollar bills on the bar at Babylon, but he was still a stubborn little shit and if the money was good enough Brian wasn't so sure Justin would recognize if his job started to become more than he was willing or able to take on.

Justin was smart, and capable, and after everything he'd been through he was pretty adept at handling himself yet still, Brian couldn't help but think of him as an innocent in need of protection. And whatever else Justin made him feel, the urge to protect him was pretty fucking high on that list, if not the first thing on it.

Then there was Lindsay. The first weekend she was home things were a little strained as she tried to adjust to maneuvering around the house in her chair, and taking care of herself without the aid of a nurse when she needed it. Brian, seeing her struggle with the coffee-maker on her first Sunday morning at the house, stepped in and tried to help but she snapped at him angrily and so he backed away, smiling and winking to reassure a startled Gus who had been watching them from the table.

Brian wondered how long he was supposed to watch her struggle to do certain things before he should step in, yet when he tried to broach the topic with her, she simply shut down and rolled off to her room where she closed the door and didn't emerge until dinner. It would seem she wasn't ready to admit that she might need help doing certain tasks either.

She was more controlled with Gus, but still Brian could see she wasn't the same. Not that he expected her to be the same, and not that she should be the same, but Gus couldn't understand why she was moody, and angry, and didn't smile or laugh as much as before. Brian started to recognize that Lindsay had been wearing a much more controlled façade at the hospital then he'd thought, and the hour or so visits he'd had with her each day had not prepared him for day to day life with her in the house.

There was some discomfort on Brian's part, leaving Gus and Gina alone with Lindsay come Monday, but he really didn't have a choice. He had an important conference call with Sam and Brown Sutton to discuss the new line of ads for White Water Pale Ale, as well as the other beers they were going to start featuring in the upcoming campaign. Really, it was the worst time in both Brian's work life, and his home life.

The one good thing to come out of the recent events was Michael was now talking to Brian again. Things were still a little stiff between them, but it was something. Michael even invited Brian out to lunch on Wednesday and as the meal progressed the unease between them seemed to disintegrate. It was a relief to Brian, as the number of things on his plate to worry about decreased by one.

Lindsay also was starting Physical Therapy at the house. Brian had hired a physical therapist to come out three times a week to assist Lindsay in the exercises that she could not do on her own. She still couldn't walk, but she was gaining some strength in her lower extremities. There was some hesitation on the part of the doctor to proclaim whether Lindsay would ever get strong enough to actually walk, but he encouraged her to keep working at it nonetheless. It would do nothing but benefit her regardless, he'd said. Brian didn't think she enjoyed the work, necessarily, but she did it with few complaints.

When Brian got home from work on Wednesday, a little earlier than usual, he finally met the physical therapist that he'd hired to work with Lindsay. His name was Jesse, and though he'd hired him Brian had only spoken to him on the phone. He had seemed amiable enough, yet also had an air of confidence about him that Brian thought would work well with Lindsay's sometimes standoffishness. Brian had also gotten a gay vibe from him, which comforted him to some degree. Not that he wouldn't have hired a straight therapist if he or she had been qualified, but Jesse was the best of the bunch Brian had talked too.

He was packing up his car when Brian pulled into the driveway, and Brian couldn't help but admire the man's appearance. He was tall, slim, and had a thick mane of dark blonde hair that was pulled into a tight ponytail at the nape of his neck. His features were angular and sharp, but they also had a gentleness about them. He could be considered classically handsome.

Brian allowed himself to enjoy the view of the other man as he exited his car, and he allowed himself to bask in the reciprocating adoration Jesse was giving him. Brian was wearing his favorite Armani slacks, the ones that he thought best framed his ass and his basket, as well as a charcoal-grey button down that he'd opened at the collar due to the stifling heat and humidity. He knew he looked good and so he added a slight swagger to his walk as he approached the other man, who was wearing cargo shorts and a slightly too tight white tee shirt that accentuated strongly toned arms.

"You must be Jesse," Brian held out his hand as he smiled. Damn the man was attractive. His deep blue eyes contrasted with his natural tan. Brian wondered how he'd managed to surround himself with so many blue-eyed beauties; Justin, Sam, Jesse.

"Mr. Kinney," Jesse gripped Brian's hand firmly.

"Brian," he corrected.

"Brian," Jesse grinned and once more let his eyes travel up and down Brian's body, "it's a pleasure to meet you."

Brian chuckled, appreciating the admiration and feeling his body responding accordingly, but he shoved the feelings aside. In another life maybe he'd pursue this…if he hadn't just fought tooth and nail with himself and with Justin to gain back the other man's trust. Maybe if this man wasn't the one potentially responsible for aiding in Lindsay's full-recovery. Maybe if Brian wasn't reeling from the last time he'd had random sex and learned that he'd possibly been exposed to HIV. Maybe…

Nope. He couldn't go there. He _wouldn't_ go there.

"Everything go okay?" Brian took a step back from Jesse, purposefully changing his tone and smiling inside as he watched the other man take the nonverbal cue. Things would be professional between them, and they would stay that way. Though that wouldn't stop Brian from enjoying and appreciating the lovely view that Jesse provided.

"Yeah, it went okay. I think we have a little ways to go to build up trust, but I'm not worried," Jesse's tone also changed, becoming clinically professional.

Brian glanced towards the closed front door of the house, wondering what kind of situation and mood he'd be walking into.

"Well I have another appointment to get too," Jesse smiled warmly and with a nod he moved to the driver's side door of his silver Prius. "Have a nice day."

Brian just nodded and watched as the physical therapist drove away, staying outside for several more minutes, long after the car had disappeared from sight. Finally, taking a deep breath he turned to the house.

It was quiet inside. Not a sound could be heard. It was slightly unsettling considering Jesse had just departed. Brian walked into the kitchen, placing his briefcase on the table before grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. He then moved through the first level of the house, pausing outside the closed door that led to Lindsay's small suite of rooms. He thought he heard the shower running.

Moving from there he went to the former location of his office, just adjacent to the TV room. The large, bright room that was now the makeshift art studio for Gus, and for Lindsay. There Brian saw Gus sitting at the table with colored pencils strewn about him. In the armchair by the windows sat Gina, her laptop open and her fingers tapping quickly and purposefully across the keyboard.

"Hey Sonny-boy," Brian said as he walked into the room, peering at the drawing Gus was doing.

"Hi daddy," Gus said, not looking up from his work.

Brian glanced at Gina and she offered him a smirk and a shrug.

"What are you working on?" Brian asked, seating himself at one of the three vacant chairs around the table.

"It's for mommy," Gus said, looking up at Brian, his expression earnest, "Cause she's sad a lot."

Brian nodded, reaching out to ruffle Gus's hair.

"I'm going to go workout," Brian stood and said to Gina who nodded before continuing to type away on her laptop.

Exercise was Brian's only release and his new obsession. Before he did it simply to maintain his slender physique but now, since his nights out had been effectively cut off, it had become his new favorite pastime. The endorphin rush he got afterwards compared in no way to the pleasures of sex and orgasms, but it was enough to sustain him – at least for the time being. He'd spend a few hours each day in his home gym, running several miles and lifting weights. He'd noticed he was beginning to bulk up a little and while his clothes still fit him he was beginning to feel some tightness across the shoulders when he'd dress in the morning. He wasn't averse to buying an entirely new wardrobe, but still he decided to tone down the weight lifting and so he started running further distances and, while the weather held out, he ending his workouts with countless laps in the pool in the backyard.

Brian was drying off from his recent swim when he heard indistinct yelling coming from the house. Wrapping his towel around his waist and ignoring the fact that he was still dripping chlorinated pool water he quickly traced the source of the yelling, finding Gina, Gus, and Lindsay in the kitchen.

Gina was standing behind Gus, her hands resting on his shoulders while Gus looked heartbroken.

Lindsay was in her chair, a piece of paper in her hand and her face flushed.

"What the fuck is going on?" Brian asked and all three turned to look at him.

"Nothing," Lindsay rolled backwards and started towards her room but Brian blocked her exit, seeing Gina's expression cloud.

"The fuck nothing," Brian looked at Gina then and the red-head closed her eyes with a sigh.

"Gus gave his drawing to her, and she freaked out," Gina summed up, her hands moving to Gus's hair where they stroked the strands in what Brian recognized as an attempt at comfort. Brian could see the distressed look on his son's face and with a jerk of his head he indicated that they should go.

Gina grabbed Gus's hand and led him from the kitchen offering Brian what looked to be an apologetic smile on her way out.

"What the fuck, Lindsay," Brian looked down at his friend and the mother of his son.

She let out a long, trembling sigh and handed Brian the drawing while she simultaneously dropped her head into her other hand.

Brian, who had seen the beginning stages of the picture, took it and looked at it, trying to see it with her eyes.

The drawing featured Lindsay in her chair, Brian, Gus, and JR, with an angel in the sky that must be Melanie and a blonde figure in the middle of some tall buildings that was certainly Justin in New York. It was a similar scene to many others Brian had seen Gus draw before. It was his unconventional family.

"So?" Brian stared at Lindsay, not understanding why this drawing would elicit anger from her, especially towards Gus. Lindsay had not once shown the slightest anger or frustration towards him and Brian just didn't get it.

"I don't know what I'm doing, Brian," Lindsay whispered.

"I'm stuck here, in this house, in this chair. I can't go anywhere or do anything. I'm a prisoner of my own circumstances," she continued, raising her eyes to look at him. She appeared crestfallen, defeated.

"Gus asked me when JR would be coming home to stay," she continued, "he kept asking over and over why she wasn't here and I couldn't take it anymore. I snapped at him."

"Fuck!" Lindsay buried her face in both her hands as she broke, her shoulders racking with choked sobs.

"I don't want to hurt him, he's my baby. I just want…I want things the way they used to be," Lindsay's face was wet with tears when she finally looked up at Brian.

"But they can't be the way they used to be," Brian said plainly. He wanted to sympathize with her but his heart hardened against Lindsay's pain. He couldn't excuse her behavior towards Gus.

"I know that Brian," she said with sarcasm, "but Christ I can't even take care of my own son without help. I'm sure Gina is a lovely girl but her presence only makes me feel even more crippled than I already am. I feel completely inadequate as a mother."

"That's bullshit," Brian narrowed his eyes and prepared to 'talk tough' to his friend. He couldn't coddle her any longer. She needed to move the fuck on.

"You're Gus's mother, he'll always need you. As for Gina…when you were in the hospital I needed help and she was it. Gus loves her, and trusts her, and right now that's more important than you feeling threatened by her. Our son is hurt, Lindsay. Traumatized by the accident, and Melanie's death, and moving and losing his sister and every other fucking thing that has happened the last several months. You need to figure your shit out so you can be there for him."

Lindsay stared at him through his entire rant, her expression betraying nothing of her emotions.

"You need to focus on getting better," Brian continued, bolstered by the fresh endorphins coursing through his system, "because Gus will not be okay if you keep this shit up. So fucking get over it."

It was harsh, and for a brief moment Brian felt slightly bad that he'd talked so cruelly to her, but as her jaw set and her eyes narrowed he recognized the fire that had always burned inside her rekindle. He saw the Lindsay he'd always known peek out from behind the mask of the pathetic shell that was before him.

He saw her start to fight to come back to life.

* * *

Thursday evening Brian, Lindsay and Gus had dinner at Michael and Ben's. The arrangement Lindsay had made with them regarding JR gave her the little girl every other weekend for four days, Thursday through Monday. This was to be the first weekend of the arrangement.

Dinner went well – Michael and Lindsay talked a lot about JR, while Ben and Brian sat quietly. Ben, upon their arrival, had apologized to Brian for his behavior in the whole situation and Brian, though he despised the words, had done the same. It would seem the tenuous truce between them all was growing stronger, much to the benefit of the kids.

For his part, Gus was thrilled beyond belief that JR was going to come stay with them. Brian wasn't sure he quite understood that in a few days she'd be going back to her dads, but for the moment Brian was happy to see his son smiling and laughing.

* * *

Brian looked around, dazed. He could feel wet heat radiating from his cheek and when he touched it he winced, a bolt of pain traveling across his face and down his neck. Pulled his hand away he could see it was bright red with blood. Even in the low light of the moonlit night the color was bright and startling.

Fuck. What had he done?

They'd had a nice dinner together, Brian, Lindsay, Gus and JR. For Brian it had felt a little strange, sitting at the table as if they were a nice, regular, "normal" (according to some people) family; a mom, a dad, a son, a daughter. It was very strange indeed. Though, if he were honest, the entire weekend had been a little strange, and strained. JR was having trouble adjusting to being in a new house, and Lindsay was having trouble keeping her emotions in check whenever the little girl would get upset. Brian found himself having to calm them both down much of the weekend, with some help from Gus.

He knew everything would get easier with time, but still it was not the scenario in which Brian thought he'd find himself living at 34 years old. He had to constantly remind himself this was his life now. He was no longer a stud, or rather _the_ stud, of Liberty Avenue.

In fact Ted had quite gleefully informed him, that Friday afternoon when Brian asked him how things were going at the club, that patrons of Babylon, and Liberty Avenue in general, had moved on from him. The name of Brian Kinney, while infamous, was no longer relevant. Brian didn't ask if they all now spoke of Brandon, the usurper who'd tried to dethrone Brian last year, the way they'd used to speak of Brian. He mostly didn't want to know who had taken over his mantle, though he had to admit he was morbidly curious.

He'd been unceremoniously stripped of his title, suddenly and without his consent.

Such was life.

The news was also painful in an oddly detached way. To Brian it felt like that had been another lifetime. He hadn't lived as that particular brand of Brian Kinney for a very long time…five months now. The news that he was no longer expected to be that person was thus met with some strange emotions that Brian wasn't sure how to process or where to put.

Before the accident and before Gus, Brian spent his weekends dancing, drinking, sucking and fucking. The realization that he was being archived, relegated to the annals of Liberty Avenue, filed away with all the others who had gone before him and were now too old to party like they all wished they still could, only served to make him further sexually frustrated. His frustration from the somewhat self-imposed, forced celibacy had been easy to ignore before Ted's announcement; before he knew people had truly noticed his absence and written him off. Before he knew that his days were well and truly over.

It wasn't that he wanted to go out fucking everything in sight because that urge had been slowly waning since Justin had come into his life. No, it was the thought that he was no longer expected to be out there, fucking. That all the new, young guys wouldn't be hearing his name reverently spoken by those who'd been lucky enough to experience Brian Kinney, they wouldn't come to Babylon in the hopes of cornering him in the backroom after having heard he was the best fuck in Pittsburgh. As juvenile as it might be, that was what bothered Brian the most.

His mood only worsened when on Sunday afternoon Justin called to check in and say hey and find out how things were going with JR. Brian let Lindsay tell him about her struggles in that regard before he retreated to his bedroom with the phone to hopefully work out some of his growing anxiety with some phone sex. It was not to be though, as the conversation turned quite quickly to Justin telling Brian about a pseudo-stalker at the club where he worked. It seemed this older man, maybe in his 40s Justin guessed, had become enamored of the blonde. Brian wasn't surprised; his smile, his stature, his perky ass, and his confidence were only a fraction of his alluring and attractive traits and features.

Justin took the attention from the older man in stride at first, but after three nights the adoration quickly progressing to something more serious when the man followed Justin after closing, trying to corner him outside the bar; that's when things got a little more than uncomfortable.

The man had put his hands on Justin, trying to entice him to come home with him and if not for the bouncer coming out Justin wasn't sure what might have happened. The obsessed-man was at least as tall as Brian, but much more muscular and Justin had felt real, momentary fear for the first time since he'd been in the city.

Brian didn't respond at first as Justin regaled the tale. He couldn't quite think clearly enough to form or process any coherent or rational thoughts. His emotions ran the gamut from abject fear, to white hot rage, and back again, over and over.

He wanted to tell Justin to quit; to fuck the money and all of it and quit. He wanted to tell Justin that he'd pay him a monthly stipend; he'd give him everything he needed if he'd just quit that place and promise to be safe. But like it had been when he'd been dancing at Babylon and working for the Sap, Brian knew Justin would refuse. He was stubborn and insistent and kind of the whole point of him being in New York was to figure this out on his own so it would be counterproductive for Brian to pay his way... Still – Brian raged inside and he could tell Justin knew it.

It made him feel only marginally better that the man had been banned from the club after his behavior towards Justin, but that didn't necessarily mean he wouldn't be able to find Justin again outside the relative safety of the club. It didn't mean the other man wouldn't develop more dangerous, stalker-like behaviors towards Justin.

No, Brian felt his anxiety ramp up, but he was powerless to do a damn fucking thing, and that more than anything else made him angry.

The final straw, the one that broke the proverbial camel's back, happened later that night, after Gus had gone to bed and while Brian and Lindsay were sitting in the TV room watching "Giant". For some reason, Brian always felt the urge to watch James Dean when he was feeling particularly moody and morose and this was certainly no exception. He thought maybe Lindsay had noticed his mood because she kept attempting to make him talk. Brian refused though, limiting his answers to one word and shutting her down at each attempt. When she brought up Justin though, Brian felt his resolve weaken and every emotion he'd been trying so hard to control and keep bottled up inside since that night in February when Michael had called him about the accident, threatened to burst forth.

"I want to apologize to you," Lindsay said, "for my part in Justin's leaving."

"What the fuck are you talking about," Brian said, focusing his stare on the television, trying to lose himself in the story on screen and trying not to lose it in front of Lindsay.

"It's my fault he left. I mean, it all started with me," Lindsay said and Brian glanced over at her before he rolled his eyes.

"No, it's not," he said softly.

"Yes, it is. I organized his show here, I invited Simon Caswell. I encouraged Justin even after you two had decided to commit yourselves to each other. I tried to convince him that New York was the greatest opportunity he'd ever get. That he _had_ to go. I didn't even listen when he told me that New York wasn't his opportunity of a lifetime but that you were."

Brian looked to Lindsay with new interest.

"He said that?" he asked, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.

"Yeah he said that. But I kept insisting. And then I did something I'll never forgive myself for; I showed that damn article to you."

"I made you doubt him, and your relationship. I made you push him away."

Brian shook his head. Justin was an artist and he would never be the best he could be stuck in Pittsburgh. It wasn't Lindsay's fault…Brian truly believed that. Yet a tiny part of him latched onto her admission. A focus point of blame, a place to put all the sadness and frustration and anger regarding the continual emotional beating Brian seemed to be getting.

"I don't know how I could have been so stupid. So blind. I didn't once consider your happiness; or think about the transformation you'd undergone since Justin came into your life. My mind was simply on making Justin a star – simply because I could never be one. I swear I think I was using him to live vicariously. He practically made me admit it and yet still I forced it on him, everything else be damned. Your feelings, his feelings, everything," Lindsay's hands were gesturing wildly in the air.

"He still went of his own free will. We still decided together that he should go," Brian tried to assuage some of her guilt but the protestation felt weak, even to him.

"I was the catalyst," she replied, shaking her head. "God, I'm sorry. So sorry."

Brian wanted to tell her that sorry was bullshit, as he always did, but he couldn't. He'd grabbed on to her admission of guilt with both hands and could not let go. Yes, he decided, it was her fault. But it was Brian's fault too because ultimately, Brian had been the one to let him go.

"I've been trying to rectify things for months now," Lindsay added.

"What does that mean?" Brian responded, speaking slowly and feeling a giant black hole open up in his gut and threatening to take him down into the greatest depths of emotional despair.

"I've been begging Justin to hang on for you, to give you the time and the chance to realize your mistake in sending him away from Toronto. To realize that you pushing him away was not because you didn't love him, but because you loved him too much. He was ready to give up on you completely but I begged him, I _begged_ him not to."

She begged him? What?

"He was hurt and angry and didn't understand why you were shoving him away so damn hard when all he wanted to do was help you. He hated New York and wanted to come back but he wasn't sure you'd accept him if he did. He was certain you'd see him as a failure and be ashamed that he hadn't tried harder. He was so screwed up."

Brian tried to think back to the conversations he'd had with Justin in that timeframe. He'd known Justin was not happy in New York but he hadn't actually thought it was all that bad. He thought, arrogantly, that Justin simply wanted to come back for Brian, not because maybe pursuing art wasn't all he wanted to do with his life. Though he seemed to be handling it better now, but maybe that was all Lindsay's doing? Or had Brian succeeded in pushing too hard and now he'd have to fight even harder to get Justin back? Fuck if he knew…

"When he decided on the six month thing it calmed him, and altered his entire perspective. I think he wants to try, but I don't think he'll care one way or the other if he doesn't make it. I just think he doesn't want to embarrass you. He practically begged me not to let you know he and I were talking. He didn't want to lay any of this on you because of Gus, and me, and everything," Lindsay continued, "even though I told him you'd want to know. Even though I told him you'd never be embarrassed of him."

Brian shook his head. He and Justin had talked a little bit about some of this, and while Brian thought he had recognized Justin's feelings about New York and his art he now was starting to wonder if he really had. Because if Justin had felt the need to confide in Lindsay about all this than obviously Brian had not been giving him any of the emotional support he'd needed.

Everything Brian thought he'd known and understood about the last few months began to slowly fade into shadow and he questioned it all. Was any of it real, or authentic? When Justin had come back for the Babylon reopening they'd had several conversations about this stuff – yet still Brian didn't think he'd really listened. He was so wrapped up in his own drama that he was failing to see the more intimate struggle Justin was dealing with; his only consolation was that Lindsay had been there for him. But had that been fair to Lindsay? Maybe the distraction of helping Justin with his problems helped her cope, and escape from the trauma of her own situation…

Whatever the case Brian wanted to laugh, to tell Lindsay that if she thought what she was telling him was going to make him feel better she was sorely mistaken. Brian was questioning everything now and even worse, felt the fool for being so oblivious to the real needs of those around him.

Standing suddenly, Brian strode out of the room and out of the house ignoring Lindsay's voice calling after him. He had to get away – out of there. He couldn't sit inside that large empty house and pretend he was some great man, great father, great friend, great boyfriend. No. What he was, was a fucking joke and the thought of anyone thinking well of him in any of those roles only made him sick to his stomach. Everything was false, fake, a sham. A big, fat joke being played on him. He wasn't deserving of any of it.

Brian climbed into the Corvette, intending to clear his head on the winding country roads around him. It was late so there would be little to no traffic, and so he could drive as fast as he wanted – the only one he could possibly hurt was himself. He couldn't help but feel a flash of indulgence in the poeticism of potentially going out like James Dean, fast and furious and out of control on a windy road.

The road that led to Britin was paved, as were most of the roads in the sprawling neighborhood. But there were, further back into the woods where the larger acreage homes were, narrower, gravel roads and that was where Brian headed. He found the adrenaline rush of fish-tailing around tight corners enthralling. He found the feel of the pull of the loose shoulder gravel on his tires thrilling and scary in a way that only made him go faster and faster still. The low-angled headlights of the Corvette cut through the dark, barely illuminating the road before Brian had a chance to react to its changes – corners appeared quickly and without warning, Brian was going too fast to pay attention to any of the road signs.

It wasn't until the deer jumped out in front of his car that he truly felt primal panic. It was in that moment that he realized he didn't really want to die. He didn't want to leave Gus alone and fatherless. He didn't want to leave Justin behind with questions unanswered and promises unfulfilled.

Brian jerked the wheel as the deer turned its head to stare blankly into the beams of light barreling down on it. The Corvette, which barely handled well on paved, straight highways, handled not at all well on the loose and thick gravel of the country road and Brian felt the car drift too far to the right before the thick shoulder gravel pulled it down into the ditch and right into a tree.

Once he'd recovered his senses enough to know he hadn't broken any bones, Brian groaned loudly with the effort it took to open the door of the car. The front end, he could just see in the moonlight (there were no street lights in the West Virginia countryside) was completely smashed, hindering the range of motion for the door. But Brian was able to get it open enough he could squeeze his body out. His legs were like jelly and he crumbled to the ground, face down in the rough gravel, his uninjured cheek resting against the cool, slightly red surface. He could feel the larger pieces of the road surface poking his skin and he focused on that uncomfortable pain, along with the throbbing pulse of the gash on his cheek, until his body stopped shaking and he felt strong enough to stand. He had no idea where he was, not really. He hadn't taken his phone with him and he'd just been driving blindly. He knew the general direction in which to head, and so he started walking.

And he started thinking.


	17. Six Million Ways To Live

July faded into August and it wasn't long before Lindsay began bugging Brian about planning Gus's fifth birthday, which fell near the end of the month. Their son, who would be starting school only a week or so after turning five, was also counting down the days and excitedly talking about how he wanted his party to be superhero themed. Or, more specifically, "The Incredibles" themed.

Not long after Lindsay had come home from the hospital Gus had abandoned his obsession for Finding Nemo and channeled his energy into another animated fare, The Incredibles. Brian, and Marty, both thought Gus was using the film to deal with his mother's injury and disability. Pretending she was really a super-powered human in disguise. Marty told Brian it was a healthier coping mechanism than what Gus had been exhibiting before and he encouraged Brian and Lindsay to play along for the time being. He wasn't concerned Gus would be confused, in fact he felt certain Gus would quickly tire of pretending and move on to something else. As kids were known to, Marty told Brian, focusing and obsessing over one thing at a time. Eventually, Marty said, Gus's obsessions would diversify and become less intense as he healed from his PTSD.

But, while his obsession was with The Incredibles, Brian played along and when Gus asked if they could all dress up as that particular family of "Supers" for his birthday party, they'd agreed.

Well, Lindsay and Gina had been game for it, but Brian put up a little resistance. He wasn't a fan of spandex in any situation, let alone bright red, full body-suit spandex. But in the end he gave in because really, he would never deny his son anything and so a few weeks prior to the party he commissioned professionally tailored costumes for them all.

Time, which had seemed to be passing at a snail's pace before, suddenly seemed to speed up as the day of the party grew closer. Brian was constantly busy; with work, and party plans, and spending time with Gus and Lindsay. He managed to make time to talk to Justin, too, and tried not to get his hopes up that the other man would be able to find time in his own hectic schedule to come back for Gus's birthday…and as much as Brian hated that he was thinking about the sentimentality of it, it was kind of an important date in their relationship as well.

But Justin couldn't come back. And Brian didn't suppose there'd be another "surprise" visit like the last time. He tried to tell himself it was just business. Lord knows he'd used that same excuse over and over again on Justin; it was only fair now it was his turn to feel the sting of the words.

Justin, having shown and sold three paintings in the last month, all from the same gallery that had taken an initial chance on him, was being given one entire section to put up a collection of five paintings. Justin had three he thought good enough, but he had nothing for the last two spots. He hated all his other paintings and told Brian one night as he ranted that none of them were any good and he had to simply paint two new ones. The deadline to give the pieces to the gallery to be hung was September 1st. Therefore, he couldn't get away from the city, not even for a day. Not even for Gus's birthday.

Brian was disappointed, but also a little proud that things were happening for Justin. Though Justin still seemed unimpressed and irritated.

While he'd sold a few paintings for enough money to cut back one on his hours at Victor's (much to Brian's everlasting delight), Justin was still a relative unknown. No came in specifically asking after his art, though the gallery manager had told Justin that people commented on his work all the time, and his paintings always stirred the most response from people. Still Justin was frustrated and he told Brian a few days after his third piece had sold, that if this was what being an artist in New York City was like that he would do just as well to pack his bags and come back to Pittsburgh. There were no shortage of galleries there that could just as easily show and sell his paintings for the same amount of money as galleries in New York.

Brian silently agreed, but out loud he reminded Justin that he had just over a month and a half until his self-imposed six month period was up, and not to disregard what could happen in those six weeks. All it took was one well-connected person to see his work and that would be it. Justin had grunted his agreement, but Brian got the feeling a part of Justin hoped no one would come in and see. He might love making art but Brian didn't get the feeling he cared at all about selling it, or making a name for himself.

Brian did not remind Justin that they also had only six more weeks until their final HIV test though it was all Brian could think about – certainly as the time grew nearer. Once it was done, they could forget all about Sam and Brian's regrettable one-night stand in Toronto. Or at least Justin could. Brian was still working with Sam and though anymore it wasn't all he thought about when he saw him or talked to him, it was still there, in the back of his mind. Brian was anxious for that to pass; it was the last piece of the nightmare of the last several months that still hung over Brian like a dark, ominous cloud waiting to split open and drown him in a torrential downpour. It almost had already, the night he'd wrecked his Corvette.

That night Brian had taken the time to walk back to the house to think about the state of his life and his relationships. He knew wanted to do better by everyone. He wanted to make sure Gus was happy and secure and taken care of. He wanted to make sure Lindsay was comfortable and emotionally supported. He wanted to make sure Justin was respected and admired.

He wanted all of them to feel loved and he wanted to make sure _he_ was the one to make them all feel that way. Brian knew this meant not just going through the motions of day to day life, but truly embracing that his life was different now; that he was different now. Not just the accident, and Mel's death, and Lindsay's injuries but also Gus's literal dependence on him for everything to live; and Lindsay's dependence on him to be the kind of father Gus needed and deserved; and Justin's reliance on him to feel secure in his decisions, and safe, and most importantly, happy.

During the hour it took him to find his way back home he prioritized his life. Gus came first, always, Justin second, and though she was third on his list, Lindsay's happiness and well-being was really directly related to Gus. And if Brian were honest, the distance between the three, in his heart, was quite small. They were, at this point in his life, the three most important people _in_ Brian's life, and the three people that had the power to make Brian better if he let them, in spite of himself. They were the three people that _were_ making Brian better and that was what he wanted. He wanted to be better for them; he wanted to be better for himself.

A better father, a better lover, a better friend.

Lindsay was nowhere to be seen when Brian finally got back to the house that night. His face throbbed with pain though as he'd walked it had slightly dulled; the blood which had previously been flowing freely down his cheek had clotted and dried on his skin giving him a ghoulish appearance that took him by surprise when he went upstairs to clean up.

In his bathroom intending to wash out the wound, he was surprised to find it went a lot deeper than he'd thought. Brian tugged at the sides of the gash and felt the contents of his stomach roll wildly as he saw far deeper into the tissue of his cheek then he knew was normal, or good.

With a tired sigh, he went back downstairs and leaving a note for Lindsay and Gina that he had the Mercedes and would be back as soon as he could, he took the car and went into Pittsburgh to the emergency room.

Almost eight hours and many, many stitches later Brian returned to the house to find Lindsay sitting in the kitchen reading the paper and drinking coffee. She glanced up casually as Brian came in, her mouth moving to ask him something, likely where he'd been, when her jaw dropped.

"Holy shit, Brian! Are you okay?" Lindsay's face paled as she took in his bandaged cheek and blood-stained shirt.

"Fabulous. Something like thirty stitches and nerve damage, but the plastic surgeon says they'll heal if I don't fuck with the incision. That maybe I won't sport a lovely scar."

Lindsay's eyes widened.

It had been a shock to Brian, too. The location of the cut, which Brian deduced had been inflicted when the rear view mirror had snapped off the windshield upon impact, was deep into the fleshy part of Brian's cheek and the reason the wound had felt numb to the touch was because the nerves had been damaged by both the impact and the laceration. The good news was there didn't seem to be permanent damage, at least that's what the doctors told him when they'd examined his MRI scans in the ER before the plastic surgeon took him in for the almost three hour suture session. The chances for scarring were high, the plastic surgeon had said, due to the location of the wound, but he'd reassured Brian that it could easily be repaired later on, if he wanted.

Brian had considered what a facial scar would mean for his personal life – but then found that thought hilarious. Everything that had led him to this exact moment had been because of his fucking personal life. Quite literally. Suddenly Brian didn't think having a permanent mark, a reminder of his careless behavior, staring back at him each time he looked in the mirror would be a bad thing. Since it would seem Brian would always need reminding not to fuck things up he was being given the gift of a permanent scar to act as that reminder. He sure as hell wasn't arrogant enough to think that after one night of making promises to himself that suddenly all would be well and he'd never fuck up again. No, his track record in that regard spoke volumes against that likelihood. So a scar…a constant reminder. Maybe…

"Where's Gus?" Brian asked, exhausted after his long night at the hospital.

"He and Gina are out back, having a morning swim. She's a certified swim instructor, too. Did you know that?"

"Probably," Brian half-heartedly shrugged. It seemed vaguely familiar, like he'd read it on her resume when she'd applied for the nanny position, but he really couldn't remember anymore.

"Well she's teaching Gus the basics," Lindsay rolled away from the table and towards Brian.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked again and Brian nodded.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" she asked and Brian shook his head.

"I'd rather not talk about it right now. I'm going to go lay down. Please tell Gina I'm back and if she needs the car it's out front," Brian yawned, feeling the pull of his sutures.

"Brian," Lindsay called after him as he turned to go upstairs, "about what I said last night-,"

"Forget it," Brian called, not turning back. "I have."

Brian called into Kinnetik, giving Cynthia the news that he wouldn't be in for a few days and not answering any of her inquiries as to why. He was lucky, there wasn't much happening at the moment that required his immediate attention and so taking a few days off wouldn't be too harmful to the company.

Later that day, after Brian slept for a few hours and after he'd explained to Lindsay about the car and the deer (conveniently leaving out the part where he was driving reckless and fast and tempting fate to snatch him away and out of existence), Lindsay once again tried to apologize but Brian refused to take up the topic again.

"It's over. It's done," he'd said to her and it was the last he would say.

Gus had been a little shocked and scared when Brian had appeared that afternoon with a large white bandage on his face. But after Brian explained it was just a cut, like what Gus had had on his forehead after the accident he seemed to relax a little bit.

Brian had the smashed car towed to the house, briefly, so he could collect his personal effects. Then he sent it off, having sold it, rather quickly and after only two calls to various numbers in the yellow pages, to a classic car dealer who would likely scrap it for parts. Brian wasn't sure it was really worth salvaging, and while he was sad to see it go, it was not as much of a loss as he'd thought it might be. Instead it felt like letting go of another piece of the old him. It was freeing. Slowly the old vestiges of Brian Kinney-past were disappearing, making room for Brian Kinney-future to emerge as a better man.

He ended up not going into Kinnetik for the rest of the week. Ted, and Cynthia, kept bugging him about why, but he stubbornly refused to answer. They'd see soon enough when he showed up with a sutured wound on his face.

Brian secluded himself in his bedroom, his office, and his personal gym (at least when Lindsay and Jesse weren't in there working). He didn't want to see anyone and so it surprised him to find Jesse lounging in the kitchen one afternoon, sipping a bottle of water and leaning quite seductively against the counter. He was wearing a white tank top and jeans and when Brian came into the room he straightened up as if he'd been caught doing something.

"Lindsay wanted to show me something," Jesse blurted, a slight blush rising up his neck as his eyes moved to Brian's chest, obviously taking him in. He licked his lips and Brain wondered if it was even a conscious act.

Brian, who had been working through emails up in his office, had changed into his sweats intending to run a few miles on the treadmill now that Lindsay's session was over.

"Great," he said with feigned interest. Jesse's expression relaxed as he stared at Brian with obvious interest.

Brian tried to ignore it, but the attention made him feel good. It had been so long since he'd been the recipient of any advances or interest and so Brain took his time moving through the kitchen, making slow, exaggerated movements to accentuate his perfect muscle tone.

"What happened?" Jesse asked, indicating to his cheek.

"None of your fucking business," Brian replied matter-of-factly, pulling a bottle of water out of the fridge before he turned to head towards the gym.

"Don't work too hard. You could damage the sutures if there's too much elevated blood flow," Jesse called out after Brian.

Pausing in the doorway, Brian turned to Jesse, who grinned widely before shrugging.

"Just some friendly advice," he smirked.

Smart, successful, hot, and sassy. Brian shook his head and with a smirk of his own left the room, passing a sweaty Lindsay in the hall on the way.

* * *

With the Corvette gone there was only one vehicle in Brian's giant, four car garage. The sensible Mercedes sedan. The one intended for Gina to use whenever she wanted or needed to take Gus anywhere. Now though, Brian needed the Mercedes to get to work, and so Gina had to use her own car to take Gus around. Brian had been openly questioning of the safety of her much older car, but she assured him it was just as safe as the Mercedes. Brian fully intended to purchase a new car, but one that Lindsay could drive so she could have some freedom and escape from the confines of the house. He'd decided on another Mercedes, since Lindsay had been able to maneuver herself in and out of the one Brian drove. The modifications to the car would delay its delivery though, and so it would be a few weeks yet before it would arrive.

Brian's facial injury was of great interest to everyone at Kinnetik when he returned to the office the next week. He refused to talk about how it happened, but when Ted asked him one afternoon where the Corvette was Brian figured he must have assumed the wound had something to do with the classic car now being gone. Still, he admitted to nothing and Ted only gave him a knowing look before dropping the subject for good.

Brian of course also missed Justin over the course of the last weeks of the month. They didn't talk much because both of them were ridiculously busy. Justin was trying to finish the last two paintings for the gallery and Brian was trying to meet deadlines for several different accounts all at once, in addition to being harangued by Lindsay to help plan Gus's birthday party. He'd briefly considered trying to fly to New York to surprise Justin now that Lindsay was home and could keep an eye on Gus on Gina's days off – but when he signed two new, fairly big accounts with Kinnetik, he knew he wouldn't have the time.

He made sure to check in with the blonde, though. He was still feeling anxious about Justin's new job and the man who had harassed him, but Justin insisted he hadn't seen or heard from his 'stalker' since the night he cornered him outside the club. So Brian breathed a partial sigh of relief…would it be too much to hope the creep had moved on?

Brian didn't tell Justin about wrecking the Corvette, and he strongly suggested that Lindsay keep her mouth shut, too. He figured she was still talking to Justin even though things between the two men had seemed to reach some kind of unspoken understanding.

The one person who wouldn't accept Brian's non-answer regarding his injury was Marty – Gus's psychologist. After the accident Brian thought about many different things and among those was the basic fact that he was, basically, emotionally fucked up. Brian decided that night to swallow his fucking pride and sit in with Gus during his sessions. Marty had been pleased to hear that Brian was willing, and Brian found it wasn't as difficult or awful as he'd expected. The sessions were still about Gus and though Brian was forced to address some of the less pleasant aspects of his childhood, he was surprised to find his perspective on it had changed. He was now seeing it all seen through the filter of the father he'd become to Gus. That was what helped Brian to realize that though his own parents had fucked him up deeply and maybe irrevocably, it was the exposure and influence of Debbie, Vic, and Michael that had formed him into the man and father Brian he now was. The fact that he had a strong friend-group to rely on had overpowered the awful childhood he'd endured and experienced growing up. In fact, Marty told him one Friday later in the month that he was incredibly impressed with Brian's ability to subvert society's expectations – that it was a rare man indeed who could grow up in an abusive household and not become abusive himself.

For Brian it was easy. He couldn't imagine hurting Gus, or Justin for that matter – not like his father had hurt him, or how he'd seen him hurt his mother. He wasn't blind to the emotional abuse he'd put Justin through all throughout their roller coaster of a relationship. Now Brian felt he had to begin to make up for it. No more toying with emotions, or offering a little of himself only to yank all of it back again later. The time for those games had long since passed, and if he had any intention of keeping Justin in his life he had to try his best to play it straight.

Now that Brian was more aware of the damage he could inflict, he was more determined not to inflict it. He didn't want Justin always on edge, always waiting for that moment when Brian would suddenly pull back and shove him away so hard he would fall, tumbling and bruising himself on the long journey to the base of the cliff. Justin shouldn't have to climb so far and work so hard, just for a tiny piece of Brian, if anything. It didn't matter if he was willing to – he simply shouldn't have to.

* * *

The weekend of Gus's birthday finally arrived, coinciding with the regular weekend visit from JR. Brian spent the morning getting things set up and pulling on the ridiculous red spandex for the Mr. Incredible costume Gus was ecstatic for him to wear. Brian found it quite the coincidence that the five of perfectly matched the family from the film, down to the baby. Brian just hoped it was a good day for everyone.

Gus's wish for a superhero party included the requirement for all guests to come dressed in costume. Brian was slightly concerned about what his friends might consider a costume, and he hoped they would all be smart enough to dress appropriately. He needn't have worried.

Ted and Blake arrived first, dressed as Batman (Ted) and Robin (Blake). Emmett showed up soon after as Zephyr, with Michael and Ben in tow dressed as Captain Astro and Rage, respectively. Hunter, trailing along behind them, was dressed normally, but claimed to be Peter Parker. A fact which Gus argued was not in keeping with the theme and so he made the teenager wear his bright red Superman cape that went with his pajamas. Jennifer and Molly came soon after, dressed as Batgirl and Supergirl.

Debbie and Carl and The Petersons were the last to arrive, Carl dressed in his uniform – arguing when Michael claimed he was cheating. Carl claimed police officers were "everyday" superheroes and Gus, the final word in the matter, accepted that answer. Brian couldn't help but notice how his son was slightly enamored of the uniform and Brian had to wonder how long before his interests moved from superheroes to policemen. Debbie though, was dressed in her every day, loudly colored and wildly patterned clothes. When the whole of the guest list ganged up on her about her lack of costume, she simply defended herself by claiming to be "Zephyr's mother", and "superheroes need moms, too" and that "moms are a kind of superhero, having to wash the spandex after a night of fighting crime". After several long minutes of teasing they all gave up – her stubborn insistence too much to overcome.

Ron and Nancy Peterson even came dressed, Lois Lane and Clark Kent. Brian found himself laughing along with Gus when Ron pulled open his white button down shirt to reveal a Superman logo tee-shirt underneath.

There may have been a shortage of children at the party, but there was no shortage of laughter and fun. Lindsay had planned things out for the day, and the entire costumed group played numerous games together – even Brian enjoyed himself.

Presents were wildly expensive and far too extravagant for a five year old – and Gus's favorite gift was from Justin; a digital camera, some new paints and brushes, and several stretched canvases. Brian had to hand it to the blonde, he was really fostering Gus's artistic interests, while also showering the kid with more than Brian would have ever expected.

But Gus's attentions weren't on his new camera for long when Brian – who had saved his gift for last – brought out the final present. He'd been certain it would overshadow everything else. After Gus had turned his new camera on and photographed everyone around him, Brian had told the little boy to close his eyes and he disappeared into the garage, emerging moments later with a yellow Labrador Retriever puppy in his arms. There was a wide, red ribbon tied around its neck. The gathered adults all elicited sounds of shock and there were a few titters of laughter, but Brian's steely glare kept most everyone silent.

Gus was bouncing in his seat, his tiny hands clasped tightly over his eyes.

Brian approached and crouched in front of Gus, adjusting the puppy so he was facing Gus.

"Okay Sonny-boy, you can look," Brian felt a shit-eating grin cross his face in his anticipation of his son's reaction. He hadn't had this much fun in…well…years!

Gus dropped his hands and opened his eyes, first looking at Brian. Then his eyes slowly drifted downward and his jaw dropped in pure surprise. Brian laughed, as did the others who had all gathered around them to watch the big reveal.

Then Gus screamed, causing the puppy to jump in Brian's arms. Before Brian could warn Gus to calm down and be gentle the little boy was on the ground and pulling the puppy onto his lap, squeezing it tightly and kissing it.

"I'm going to call him Sunny cause he's yellow like the sun. And I wanna teach him to play ball and fetch and do all sorts of tricks! Can we daddy?" Gus exclaimed as the puppy, overcoming its initial shock, lifted its tiny head and began licking Gus's face clean of cake crumbs and frosting stains.

Gus's giggles rang out loud and clear and Brian thought he might burst from the pure joy evident in his expression.

"We can, Sonny-boy," Brian responded with a chuckle.

Glancing to Lindsay, Brian grinned widely at her as her tear-filled eyes overflowed and large fat drops slid down her cheeks. They were happy tears though, and she laughed out loud as she shook her head at Brian. She hadn't known about the puppy, no one had, and Brian could only imagine how seeing Gus react so joyfully made her feel inside. Because it was all Brian could do to hold back his own tears at seeing his son so fucking happy.

Molly, Gus and the puppy played in the grass the remainder of the afternoon and when she could keep up, JR was out there too. Gus paused only long enough to say goodbye to his guests before he was back out, running in circles around the little puppy, Sunny, who was trying desperately to keep up.

Gus, and Sunny, crashed hard and early that night. Brian put them both to bed, resigning himself to the fact that the dog would be sleeping with Gus in his room and hoping the breeder he'd bought the puppy from had been truthful about the fact that he was supposed to be house trained already. The last thing Brian wanted was for Gus to wake up in a puddle of puppy pee!

Closing the bedroom door to the sleeping duo, Brian descended the stairs and entered the kitchen where Lindsay was doing her part to clean up after the party.

"When did you decide to get him a dog?" she asked with a smile as she loaded plates into the dishwasher.

"About a month ago," Brian answered, pulling a White Water Pale Ale from the fridge and twisting the top with a sigh.

"I think it'll be good for him to have a companion, and even though he's getting leaps and bounds better I think this puppy will help him get over his anxiety and the trauma of the last six months," Brian took a long pull on the bottle, hoisting himself up on the counter of the island and watching Lindsay deftly maneuver the kitchen in her chair.

"You're getting good in here," he said as she spun in a tight circle, her lap full of dirty glassware that she started loading into the dishwasher.

"I've been practicing," she winked.

"It's too bad Justin couldn't make it," she added after a long silence, her back to Brian so he couldn't see her expression.

"Yeah. It is," he said softly.

"Are you still talking to him?" Brian asked, trying to sound casual but not entirely sure it was convincing.

"Not as much. He's been spending a lot of time in his studio," Lindsay turned back, more glassware in her lap, "but you know that."

Brian laughed before he took another drink of his beer.

"Do you want to come to Gus's appointment with me next week?" Brian asked, changing the subject.

He'd been twice now, and after next week Gus's appointments would change to once a month instead of once a week. Marty, at their last appointment, had asked Brian if Lindsay would want to attend with him next time. He thought it important, now that she was home, that she be included with Brian in the healing process.

"Yes, actually," she said, pouring dishwasher fluid into the reservoir and starting up the wash cycle, "I really would."

After her blow-up with Gus, and after Brian had given her a stern talking too, Lindsay had apparently recommitted herself to completing her recovery; and that didn't mean just physically. One night Brian found her writing in a journal and when he asked her about it she told him it was a suggestion of Jesse's; that when she felt overwhelmed, or helpless, or like she couldn't handle things, she should write it out in her journal. She told Brian it helped her from unnecessarily hurting those around her – namely, Gus.

Brian tried to ignore the fact that a lot of pages were already filled – and he took notice when the frequency of finding her writing went down significantly. In the week leading up to Gus's birthday he only saw her writing in it once.

Though he was still struggling a little with his own emotional instability, Brian was beginning to see that everyone around him was settling into their new life. Gus was happier than Brian could remember seeing him since long before the accident, and Lindsay was thriving, able to spend all day, every day with him. Brian had no doubts the improvement of Lindsay's mood was not only due to getting to spend time with Gus, and JR every other week, but with the time she spent with Jesse getting stronger and more comfortable with her situation. Brian had hired him for physical therapy, but he learned soon after he started that he also had some counseling experience. Suddenly the use of the journal made a bit more sense.

Lindsay was even getting along well with Gina, now that she was more settled and in a routine the two women could work together with. Brian had considered releasing Gina from her position at the start of August, not only because Lindsay was home but also so Gina could finish her thesis and defense (which was schedule the week of Gus's party). But, after talking with Gina about it, he decided to keep her on until her graduation. He didn't mind paying her and he knew she could use the money; and he didn't think it was bad to give Lindsay as much help as possible for as long as possible. She was healing, but still not 100%.

Everything was seemingly perfect – or close to getting there, except for one thing.

When everything was put away and immaculately clean, Brian bid Lindsay goodnight and headed up to bed to call Justin. He hoped he wouldn't be disrupting his work or waking him from sleep but he was a little anxious to talk to him. It was their anniversary, of sorts. He couldn't let the day pass without at least talking to him, as cheesy as that was and as much as Brian hated the thought of the sentiments of it all.

Justin did answer, and he did sound distracted, but also glad to hear Brian's voice, at least that's what Brian told himself.

"So how was Gus's party?" Justin asked right away.

"He loved the camera and art stuff you got for him," Brian replied, biting his tongue before he could ask how Justin afforded it all. It hadn't been a cheap camera…

"Good," Justin answered and Brian could hear the grin that was undoubtedly plastered on his face.

"Are you working? Did I interrupt?" Brian stretched out on his bed, naked and enjoying the cool night breeze that was blowing in his bedroom windows.

"I was taking a break," Justin yawned loudly and Brian sniggered.

"I got him a puppy," Brian blurted, closing his eyes and pressing his hand to his forehead. He was still wondering why in the hell he'd done such a thing. He knew it'd be he and Lindsay who'd have to take care of the thing most of the time…still the joy on Gus's face…

"You…what?" Justin burst out laughing and Brian rolled his eyes before scrubbing his hand across his face.

"Yeah," he shook his head, "I don't know what I was thinking."

"You were thinking about your son and making him happy," Justin's laughter faded and his voice grew soft. "Nothing wrong with that."

"Whatever," Brian sighed, "he named the thing Sunny. Like the sun."

Justin chuckled softly.

"Guess what I'm painting," Justin said then, his tone suddenly more serious, yet playful and dare Brian think, a bit sexy?

"I couldn't possibly," Brian answered though his interest was piqued.

"You. Standing on a street corner at night, bathed in the light of a single streetlamp. You're wearing jeans, a black tee-shirt, a leather jacket, and smoking a cigarette. You have one hand in your pants pocket, and are leaning with the opposite shoulder against the light pole. It's fucking hot and I almost wish I didn't have to sell it," Justin's voice had grown softer as he'd described the painting, and Brian could practically see it in his mind's eye. He also knew without question he had to have it, and so he made a mental note to call the gallery first thing Monday and tell the manager he wanted that particular painting. The gallery could display it if they wanted, but it was to be marked sold as soon as it arrived and Justin was not to know.

"Sounds like a slightly familiar scene," he responded, eliciting a breathy laugh from Justin.

"You could say that," Justin replied.

"Do you…-," Justin started but then he stopped.

"Do I…?" Brian prompted certain he knew what Justin was going to ask but almost needing him to ask it anyway.

"Do you ever wonder where you'd be if you hadn't picked me up that night?" Justin whispered and Brian grinned into the darkness of his bedroom. Just as he'd thought…

"No. But I do know I'd be infinitely worse off," Brian let his smile fade as he tried to convey the honesty of the statement because it was true. And really Brian didn't want to consider for even a millisecond where he might be had things been different that night.

The contented sigh from Justin was all the answer Brian needed, and he felt delicious warmth spread through his chest as he heard unspoken confirmation that Justin felt the same way.

* * *

The Friday after Gus's party Brian stayed home from work so he could take Lindsay with him to Gus's appointment. They sat together with Gus during his session with Marty. It was the last of the weekly sessions for Gus, as the following week he'd be starting school and the appointments would change to once a month.

It was good, though. Lindsay was able to talk a little with Marty, and Gus was nothing but excited and ecstatic as he described his birthday party, all the costumes and of course, Sunny, in perfectly vivid and over-exaggerated detail.

After the session, Marty sent Gus into the playroom before he sat back down with Brian and Lindsay. He started out by praising them for the progress that Gus had made.

"It's only with a strong foundation at home that I can attribute such a fast recovery. It's not over though, so I want to keep meeting with Gus at least until next April or May. I want to make sure this progress is permanent, and not something that he'll stumble with, and fall back into old behaviors."

Brian and Lindsay nodded as Marty talked. Brian would do whatever Marty said with regards to his son – because Brian had most noticed the profound changes in him over the summer and he wasn't so arrogant enough to think it was due to him. No, Brian gave all the credit to Marty.

"As for you two," Marty leaned forward, folding his hands on his desktop in a very professional manner that caused Brian to smirk slightly, "I want you to stop living only for Gus."

Brian's smirk faded and he arched his eyebrow in question.

"You had lives before the accident, I want you to resume some of your old activities. I want you to stop ignoring your own needs and wants. Because I promise you, you won't be able to sustain this kind of blind dedication to your son forever. Eventually you'll start to resent the fact that you had to stop living your life. It's not fair to you, but more importantly it's not fair to Gus. He has to learn to manage and cope on his own, and not be coddled. Not that I think you coddle him, but the point still stands. Go out, see friends, have fun, like you did before all this happened. Gus has to know that while you'll be there for him, always, you also respect yourself enough to do what you need to, for yourself."

The drive back to the house was quiet. Brian hadn't responded to Marty's "order" while in the office, but Lindsay had engaged him, asking a few other related questions.

Brian had considered Marty's suggestion – and there was no doubt a part of him wanted to resume his prior lifestyle. But there were so many reasons why that was no longer an option. So many reasons why it would be a very bad idea. Not the least of which was Justin; and of course, the HIV scare. Brian was still not technically in the clear from his exposure and while he could easily assume everything would be fine, there was a tiny chance it wouldn't be. Why would he want to tempt himself when he couldn't follow through? And why would he want to allow another man to touch him when all he longed for was Justin? It wasn't like before, when Brian was managing his pain of losing Justin to the fiddler by fucking everything that moved and imagining the blonde's face and body beneath him. This time was different. They weren't "broken up", or whatever. They were actually working towards being together, and Brian wanted no one and nothing to come between him and that prize.

It was true that just because Brian went out it didn't mean he had to screw around and Brian knew that, deep down. But what would happen if he made an appearance at Woody's? Or Babylon? He'd been out of the scene for so long; would anyone even still be interested? The tiny part of Brian that lamented his descent from fame on Liberty Avenue wanted to find out. Wanted to know that he could still go out and attract all the attention he'd been used to getting since he started sneaking into bars and clubs when he was 17. But was that smart? And did it really matter?

"Hello? Brian?" Lindsay's hand hitting his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts.

He turned to look at her, eyebrows raised in question.

She looked at him oddly for a moment before she spoke again, "I said, why don't you go out tonight? Gus and I can hang out, watch a movie or something."

"Maybe," Brian murmured, keeping his eyes on the road even while in his periphery he could see Lindsay watching him closely.

"When was the last time you had drinks with the guys? Or went dancing?" she asked and Brian just shrugged.

"Go," she reached an arm out and fondled his hair, "please, Peter."

Brian sighed internally. He had no reason to give for why he couldn't go out unless he told her of the HIV and there was no way he was doing that, so Brian nodded. He could see Lindsay smile in apparent victory.

If only she knew.

Later that night, Brian met up with everyone at Woody's. He'd called Michael and asked about meeting for drinks, and apparently Mikey had extended the invite to the entire group. Brian didn't mind. The more there, the less he might be called upon to chit chat.

Upon entering Woody's, Brian purposefully did not look around to check out the scene. Partly because he didn't want to tempt himself, and partly because he didn't want to chance seeing the pitying looks he was sure he was getting.

Ted, Emmett, Michael and Ben were already at the back, engrossed in a "game" of pool. Brian had to laugh that over all the years they'd been coming to Woody's and playing the game that none of them had improved any. Brian could still beat all of them, probably with a hand tied behind his back, too.

"Hey Bri," Ted smirked as Brian approached after stopping at the bar for a beer.

"Theodore," Brian returned the greeting. Ted was the only person he let get away with calling him "Bri". It was a nickname he hated, yet for some reason with Ted it didn't sound so…awful. Reciprocally, Brian was the only one to call Ted, Theodore, something he'd started doing to annoy the accountant but now it was just what he called him by default.

Brian sipped his beer as he examined the faces of his friends. They were all looking at him with some amusement, and finally Brian had to ask.

"What the fuck are you staring at?" he groused with obvious irritation.

"Brian Kinney returns to his natural habitat," Emmett winked, "we were all wondering if it was ever going to happen. Will you be going to Babylon then after this?"

Ted laughed as Brian shook his head with a scowl.

"Fuck off," he replied as he moved to the high-top near the pool table and sat down. He managed to catch Michael giving him a look before he was prompted to take his shot.

The foursome played while Brian watched. He could feel eyes from all over the bar on him, and twice as he went back to the bar to get another drink he couldn't help but notice a few interested, come-hither stares. But he pretended not to see them. The conversation at the pool table was easy and light-hearted. There was no more teasing of Brian as the conversation turned to a recent sighting of Drew Boyd at Babylon. The football player had moved to Miami early that spring, disappearing from the Pittsburgh scene but now, apparently, he was back and Emmett was all anxious and intent to avoid the dance club. Ted and Michael were both trying to convince him to go. They both seemed to think Drew had come back to look for him, though Emmett was not convinced.

"Jesus, Emmett, just fucking go," Brian finally had to interject, tired of the back and forth and ready himself to get the hell out of there.

Everyone fell silent and turned to look to Brian.

"You really think I should go?" Emmett moved around the table, his head cocked sideways as he leveled his gaze on Brian, curious.

"Do you love the guy?" Brian asked and Emmett, somewhat shyly, shrugged and nodded.

"Then yes, you should go," Brian tipped his third beer up, draining the last of it before standing from his stool. His four friends were still staring at him, quiet.

"I'm outta here," he offered a facetious grin before headed towards the bathroom to empty his bladder before his long drive home.

He half expected Michael to follow him into the bathroom, so when the door opened just as he unzipped to piss he turned with his mouth open ready to tell Mikey to fuck off. The words died on his lips when he saw the grinning face of Jesse, Lindsay's physical therapist, staring back at him.

"I thought that was you," Jesse sauntered up to the line of urinals and in a distinctly Brian Kinney move, eyeballed Brian's package before he whipped out his own very impressive dick.

Brian felt his cock start to respond to the proximity of the good-looking and well-endowed man next to him. Forcing himself to finish peeing, Brian tucked himself back in his jeans and zipped up.

"It's me," he said curtly, moving to the sink to wash his hands while checking out the other man in the mirror.

His ass was sublime, perfectly fit into the tight, but not too tight, jeans he was wearing and Brian reflexively felt his body responding, his pants tightening as he started to get harder just looking.

When Jesse finished up Brian moved his eyes back down to his hands but still he could feel the stare of the other man behind him. Rinsing the remainder of the soap Brian turned off the water and looked up to find Jesse had moved and was standing right behind Brian, a gleam in his eye as he smiled.

"I'm glad it was you. Your cut is healing nicely," he whispered, leaning in and breathing on Brian's neck as one finger gently traced a line just parallel to the pink scar on Brian's cheek. Then suddenly his hands were on Brian's waist and he was moving closer, pressing his own bulging cock into the curve of Brian's ass while his hands wandered up Brian's chest before moving down to the waistband of his jeans. Brian's breath's were shallow and while the rational part of him was screaming at him to _get the fuck out!_, the part of him that had missed the feel of another man's hands on him would not allow him to move.

Jesse's hands unbuttoned Brian's fly before they disappeared down, one of his hands grasped Brian's fully hard cock while the other fondled his balls and Brian nearly let out a moan of pleasure at the sensations. He felt his eyes closing, his head falling back, his willpower all but failing him as he succumbed to the waves of pleasure that were coursing through him. God, it felt so fucking good to be touched, and caressed.

It wasn't until Jesse pressed his lips to Brian's neck, kissing and biting that Brian regained any of his senses or composure.

It was wrong. It was all wrong. The lips were too hard, the hands too big and rough. With a movement so quick he wouldn't have time second guess himself Brian turned so he was face to face with Jesse, breaking contact on both his cock and his neck. The other man's blue eyes were curious, questioning. Brian simply shook his head and gently pushed the other man back before he buttoned his pants, adjusted his crotch so he could walk out of the bar without attracting too much unwanted attention, and left.

* * *

That weekend was the long Labor Day holiday, and Brian spent it at the house with Lindsay and Gus. Lindsay had started adding some swimming to her daily physical therapy and Brian had installed a kind of sling that would support Lindsay in the pool so she could get in and swim around without a life jacket or someone else there to support her weight and keep her from sinking.

Gus was ecstatic to have both his parents play with him in the pool and the weekend was spent alternating between pool time, and puppy time.

Sunny, for the most part, was a good dog. He was house trained, and already knew a few commands like sit and lay down. Brian still determined he needed to sign the puppy, and he and Gus, up for some training school anyway; if he was going to live with a dog it was going to be well behaved.

Labor Day weekend was also the last weekend Gina would be spending with Brian, Lindsay and Gus. She had successfully completed her program, and graduated. She had been offered a job at a prestigious private school in upstate New York, and would be leaving on Monday. Gus was heart-broken, but Gina promised to send him lots of cards and photos, and for Gus's sake Brian hoped she could keep that promise. They had a final dinner together on Sunday night, and early Monday, Gina loaded up her car and was gone.

The timing worked out well, for Gus was also scheduled to start school Tuesday of that same week. The car Brian had bought for Lindsay was supposed to be delivered to the house either Tuesday or Wednesday, so Brian had to take a few more days off work so he could drive Gus to school, but on Wednesday the car came, and Lindsay was thrilled. She was now capable of taking Gus to school, and running her own errands when need be.

Justin's work had also been put up on display, and when Justin called to boast to Brian about having already sold a painting, Brian didn't have the heart to tell him it was he who had bought it. Still, he had no doubt the others would sell just as quickly, and while a part of him was scared for what that might mean for Justin's possible return to Pittsburgh and Brian, he could never begrudge the man success. Not after everything he'd been through to get where he was.

Brian went to bed that night with only one other thing on his mind. There were only two weeks left until his final HIV test.


	18. Oh Happy Day

It was mid-September and the coming change in the seasons could be felt in the air. Brian had spent the last week or so simply following his routine – day in and day out trying not to think about the upcoming test. The moment that would, in a way, define his future. He felt confident the test would come back negative. The odds were in his favor for that to be the case; yet given his history he wasn't about to thumb his nose at fate.

So he went to work. Came home. Worked out. Played with Gus and Sunny. Had dinner with Lindsay and Gus. Called Justin. Went to sleep. Wash…Rinse…repeat…over and over.

He sensed that Justin might be thinking about it, too. But they didn't talk about it. They didn't mention it at all. Brian wanted to. He wanted to make sure Justin had his test scheduled so they could both find out at the same time. Roughly. But he didn't bring it up. He was sure Justin was quite aware of the situation.

Sam had come back to Pittsburgh for business, and it seemed as if he wanted to ask Brian about the test as well. He probably had figured it was soon, and Brian would find him looking at him thoughtfully as if trying to read him.

The mounting stress of the approaching test was taking its toll on Brian, too. It started out as some stiffness in his shoulders, than progressed to muscles spasms before, finally, just a few days before his test he woke up hardly able to get out of bed because his neck and shoulders were in so much pain.

It took him nearly ten minutes to literally roll out of bed. He fell to his hands and knees on the floor where he slowly, and with extreme pain, rose to his feet. Walking was painful, sitting was painful, movement of any sort was painful. Brian cursed out loud as he dialed Cynthia's cell. When he didn't get an answer he tried Ted. His CFO did answer and when Brian explained his situation Ted was very understanding, suggesting a hot pad to loosen the muscles. Brian thanked him, sarcastically, though that fact was likely lost on Ted, and hung up.

It took him several minutes to go down the stairs, the jarring of his spine with each step down sending shockwaves of intense, stabbing pains through his neck up into his head. He thought he might pass out at one point because the sensations were so strong. No one else was up yet, so Brian carefully made coffee before he slowly lowered himself into a chair at the table. If he didn't move, or breathe too deeply, the pain was manageable. He wasn't sure if he should call a doctor, or have Lindsay drive him into town to the Urgent Care, or even into Pittsburgh to go to the hospital. It wasn't really an emergent condition – except that the pain was very nearly making him sick to his stomach. So he just sat there, and wallowed in his misery – cursing under his breath as the coffee finished brewing because he could not make himself stand to get some. It simply hurt too fucking much.

It wasn't too much later that Lindsay rolled into the kitchen, wrapped in a robe.

"I thought I smelled coffee," she mumbled as she headed for the pot, pouring a cup before moving over to the table. She sipped it before setting it on the table and looking at Brian.

"What the hell is wrong with you? You look like you're about to pass out!" she exclaimed.

Brian couldn't shrug or shake his head. The slightest movement would send radiating waves of pain through his upper body.

"I can't really move," he said through clenched teeth. Fuck, it ever hurt to breath too deeply.

"What do you mean you can't move?" Lindsay sat up a little straighter in her chair.

"I mean," Brian clenched his jaw as a wave of pain passed through him, "that my neck and shoulders are frozen. I can't move them and if I try it hurts so much I want to pass out."

"Can I do something?" Lindsay asked, concern covering her face.

"Give me a heating pad, and drugs," Brain closed his eyes as another spasm passed through him.

"A heating pad I can get for you, drugs on the other hand…," Lindsay's voice trailed off as she rolled out of the kitchen and returned minutes later with a heating pad.

"Something, anything," Brian whispered, accepting the heating pad just as a spasm of pain shuddered through him. He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath.

"What the hell did you do to yourself?" Lindsay asked as she rolled across the kitchen and picked up the phone.

Brian just closed his eyes and winced as he attempted to shake his head only to be stopped by waves of pain traveling down his neck.

"Fuck," he grumbled. He could hear Lindsay talking on the phone but he paid no attention to what she was saying. All he could focus on was the pain. It was worse than the collarbone break, and certainly worse than any bruised ribs he'd had or even the cut on his face.

"Okay, Jesse will get you a prescription for some muscle relaxers, and in the meantime said you can take some Tylenol or Advil. Which do you want, I have both," Lindsay appeared in front of Brian then, taking the cord of the heating pad and plugging it in before she draped the rectangular cloth around Brian's neck.

"I don't fucking care, just give me something," Brian whispered, eyes still closed.

"I ask again, what did you do?" Lindsay's voice spoke some minutes later, as Brian felt his hand opened and some pills dropped into the palm.

His eyes were still closed and he was taking deep breaths, trying to relax his upper back and neck, which now that he was sitting upright, had started spasming worse than before.

"I don't know," he breathed, placing the six pills in his mouth and dry swallowing before reaching blindly for Lindsay's coffee to chase them down.

"Stress," he added, imagining the weight of the 60,000 pound elephant currently resting on his shoulders, disappearing as soon as his damn test was over and done with. He just wanted to know, and to stop worrying.

In fact he was amazed he hadn't encountered this situation before. He had lived for decades indiscriminately fucking anyone and everyone and it was only by sheer luck that he had not contracted anything worse than crabs, and syphilis, and even gonorrhea once in his first few years out on Liberty Avenue. He credited that "luck" to using condoms, and only topping, but still…herpes could spread by mouth and he'd let many a questionable guy suck his dick.

What he wanted was the day to come where he wouldn't worry about contracting some STD – but in contradiction to that desire was a strong aversion to the thought of being only with one man forever, even if it was Justin. It just seemed so…not Brian. And that was stupid – because Justin was a fucking amazing partner in bed, and game for trying (almost) anything once. Why the hell would Brian need to get satisfaction anywhere else? And why would he resist giving Justin something like the gift of his monogamy just because of some lame idea that being with only one person somehow makes him less sexual; less desirable. That is somehow made him like all the breeders he disliked so much?

Stupid. Because the fact was Brian didn't need to be desirable to anyone but Justin…

It was a stupid way to live yet he had done it, for over 15 years – and a part of him wanted to go back. Hell, he'd have let Jesse do practically anything to him the other night at Woody's just because it felt so damn good.

"I thought things were getting better," Lindsay stared and Brian just closed his eyes, unable to shake his head or shrug or stand up and leave without triggering a burst of pain.

"It's just – stuff," Brian said, his eyes still closed. He heard Lindsay sigh.

"I know there's something else going on," she said softly, "I think it might have to do with Justin, but neither of you will talk to me so I don't know. I'd help if I could."

"You can't," Brian blurted and then immediately regretted it. He'd pretty much just admitted to her that she was right, and he didn't get this far, keeping the big secret from her just to spill the beans when it was almost over…

"Why not?"

"Just leave it alone," Brian sighed, fearing he'd stirred a monster and it was one he couldn't escape. He just needed to make it through the next week. Then he'd know, one way or the other, and he'd be able to relax again.

"Brian-."

"Lindsay. Stop," He looked at her. She was only concerned, he told himself. She was just being a good friend.

"Everything is fine. Really. Just…just take Gus to school."

Lindsay didn't answer. She just sighed and shook her head before rolling out of the kitchen. Brian heard her yell up the stairs for Gus to get his clothes and come down so she could help him get ready. Roughly twenty minutes later he came into the kitchen and gingerly touched Brian's arm before smiling.

"I hope your neck gets better," he said, his hand rubbing small circles on Brian's forearm.

"Me too, Sonny-boy," Brian winked. "Did you take Sunny out to pee?"

Gus nodded and as if on cue the puppy suddenly appeared at Brian's feet, jumping up and resting its front paws on Brian's knees. He sighed inwardly.

"Good," Brian smiled at his son, "have fun at school today, okay?"

"I will!" Gus exclaimed as he leaned forward and planted a kiss on Brian's cheek causing him to tense up and suddenly shooting pain was traveling immediately down his back. He did his best to control his grimace. He didn't want to make Gus feel bad for inadvertently causing him pain.

"Bye, daddy!" Gus ran from the room then, and Brian felt Sunny drop from his knees before he heard his tiny paws scramble across the tile in an attempt to catch up.

"Are you okay?" Lindsay's voice came from behind, startling Brian and he tensed once more, adding more to the pain.

"Yes," he said slowly and evenly, "just go."

The sound of Lindsay's chair wheeling out of the room followed by the front door slamming finally leaving Brian alone.

When Gina left and Gus started school, Lindsay had changed her physical therapy appointments with Jesse to the morning. That left her all afternoon to be with Gus and negated the need for them to find another nanny or babysitter. So, it wasn't long after Lindsay returned from dropping Gus and the neighbor kid off at school that Jesse showed up, a white pharmacy bag in tow. Brian, the heating pad still on his neck and six Advil in his stomach, felt a little better, but not enough that he could move without searing pain. Every time he engaged his neck or shoulder muscles fresh bursts of pain shot through him.

"I've got some candy for you," Jesse appeared in front of Brian, wearing his usual white tank and cutoffs. He was smiling knowingly, and Brian rolled his eyes before he held out his hand expectantly.

"These aren't so strong that you'll forget how to act like an adult, but they're strong enough it should allow you to move around a little bit," Jesse's voice took on a slightly clinical tone as he pulled a bottle from the bag and dropped one pill into Brian's palm.

Brian didn't say a word as he dry swallowed the pill.

Jesse stared at him for several moments, and Brian forced himself to hold his gaze, a stony expression on his face; at least he hoped.

"Okay," Jesse shrugged and grinned before he walked around Brian, headed to the home gym where Lindsay was waiting for her PT session.

"I'll check on you in an hour," Jesse's voice, a whisper, spoke directly in Brian's ear and he cursed out loud as the other man's proximity caused him to tense. He heard Jesse laugh and then felt his hand press against the nape of his neck, immediately alleviating the pulse of pain. Then he let go, and was gone from the room.

Brian wondered what kind of beast he'd unleashed in Jesse by first flirting and then allowing him to do what he'd done in the bathroom at Woody's.

An hour later and Brian was now in one of the armchairs in the TV room. The television was on some bad daytime talk show but Brian wasn't paying any attention. He had a slew of magazines spread out on his lap as he perused the latest in print ads from his competitors.

The muscle relaxant had worked within minutes, and Brian had been able to move from the kitchen to the TV room, bringing the heating pad along with him. There was still some residual pain, but it was far more manageable than what he'd been enduring earlier that morning.

He was distracted, occupied by taking notes regarding the changing tone and mood of the newest ads coming out. There was a distinct change in the prevalent color pallets being used, and in the looks of the models. It seemed to him that the advertising world was on the brink of a major shift and he just had to figure out how to be the first to make the boldest move, and set the tone for everyone else to follow. As such, Brian didn't hear when Jesse came into the room, and he nearly threw his magazines across the room when the other man's hand lit on his bare neck.

"Jesus fucking-," Brian felt white heat and pain start to travel down his back as he reacted to the unexpected touch. It was muted somewhat, thanks to the muscle relaxer, but still it was there.

"You scared the fucking shit out of me," Brian turned slightly in his chair, catching sight of the muscled forearm of Lindsay's physical therapist.

"Sorry," Jesse chuckled, "seems the muscle relaxer worked?"

Brian slowly nodded, "Obviously."

"Has anything like this happened before?" Jesse asked, his tone once again professional.

"No," Brian said, returning his attention to the magazines.

"Then you either need a new mattress and/or pillow, or you're stressed," Jesse's hand once again touched on Brian's neck, this time gently pressing and squeezing and Brian felt his muscles start to relax even more under his touch.

"It's stress," Brian answered, closing his eyes and letting himself relax under Jesse's hands.

"Don't tell me, you're a licenses masseuse too?" Brian asked as he felt Jesse's other hand start in on his upper back.

"Nearly. I finished the training but never took the licensing exam," Jesse grunted as he dug deeper into Brian's knotted muscles.

"Too bad. Your hands are ah-ughhhhhh," Brian groaned as Jesse pressed hard into a deep knot in Brian's right shoulder.

"I do alright without it," Jesse answered.

Brian felt the chair beneath him shift and suddenly Jesse was sitting behind him.

"What was that about my hands?" Jesse murmured, his mouth now right over Brian's ear.

"They're uh, very skilled," Brian answered, unable to stop the smirk that crossed his face as he recalled just how skilled they were, at least based on the few moments in the bathroom at Woody's.

"If you want, we can take this upstairs and I can really work you out," Jesse didn't bother to cover the fact he was flat out propositioning Brian. In fact, he almost seemed proud of it.

Brian, slightly loopy from the muscle relaxer and also feeling dangerously short-sighted due to the relief Jesse's skilled hands were providing him, was moments away from accepting the offer when Lindsay rolled into the room.

"Brian, I need you. Now."

Ten minutes later Jesse was gone and Lindsay was sitting in her wheelchair across from Brian in the TV room, staring at him with an obvious look of disappointment on her face.

"I heard everything," she said accusatorily.

"And?"

Lindsay laughed.

"And? And what about Justin?"

"What about him," Brian opened a magazine and pretended to be disinterested. In reality, he wondered if Lindsay knew something he didn't…some vital piece of information about the blonde and his plans to stay, or not, in New York.

"I thought you two were working things out?" Lindsay said and Brian sighed. She didn't know anything.

"We are. I still don't get your point," Brian looked up at her and raised his eyebrows.

He did understand, though. He knew perfectly well. She was worried Brian was going to fuck her physical therapist, push Justin away, and they'd both be miserable once again. Brian didn't really want to fuck the physical therapist, well, except for the fact that he was the only willing and attractive gay man Brian had been in contact with, other than his friends, for months. He was starving for fucking. And Jesse was simply a means to an end. A way to scratch in itch…even though Brian didn't want to scratch that itch with anyone other than Justin. But God – he was so horny, not to mention a little high on pain relievers, that he nearly lost his mind again.

"Don't you dare fuck my physical therapist," Lindsay said then, pointing her finger at Brian and glaring at him for several moments before rolling out of the room

Brian just sighed, and resumed his work.

* * *

It was the following Monday and near quitting time when Brian received a mysterious phone call from Jennifer. He'd recovered, mostly, from the neck spasms, but by the end of the day he could feel his muscles tightening up and he was on his way out of the office when she called. She sounded worried as she strongly, but still politely, asked Brian to come to the townhouse as soon as possible. There were only two reasons Brian could think of to make her act so out of the ordinary, and the fear that either Molly or, God forbid, Justin, were hurt or in trouble made Brian slightly queasy.

Scrapping the last bit of work he was going to take care, Brian left the office and drove over to Jennifer's. He didn't bother knocking – they were past that point with all the dinners and all the help she'd provided with Gus. The door was unlocked, thankfully, and Brian strode in, taking the stairs up to the living area two at a time. When he arrived at the top of the stairs it took him a minute to register the fact that three blond heads were in the room, not just two, and it took him even longer to register Justin, sitting on the sofa and looking absolutely pathetic.

"What's going on? Justin? What are you doing here?" Brian gasped as he finally took a breath. Everyone seemed okay, physically, yet still Brian had a nagging suspicion something was not okay.

"I told you not to call him," Justin stared at his mother before he turned to Brian and smiled wanly. "I'm fine. Everything's fine."

"Fine? Like hell," Brian finally moved then, crossing the room to stand in front of the other man, who was flanked on either side by his mother and his sister.

"What are you doing here?" Brian asked again, feeling dread growing in his stomach. He didn't think he was going to like the answer he received; in fact he was almost 100% sure he wasn't going to like the answer.

"I'm just visiting," Justin shrugged and Brian saw Jennifer huff in apparent frustration before she looked up at him.

"His studio was broken into, all his supplies ruined, all his in-progress works ruined, and-," Jennifer paused to compose herself, "someone defecated on the floor."

"What?" Brian heard the words but he couldn't process them. It made no sense.

"It was _him_," Justin sighed, leaning back into the couch and bringing his hands up, covering his face.

"Fuck!" he suddenly yelled and everyone jumped.

"Him? You mean that asshole that was harassing you?" Brian asked, finally catching up to the barrage of information he was receiving.

"Yes," Justin mumbled from behind his hands.

"He found your studio?" Brian asked, trying to make sure he understood.

"Yes," Justin answered, still hiding behind his hands.

"Motherfucker," Brian growled and rage like nothing he'd felt since Chris Hobbs rose up inside him. There must have been something in his tone because in a flash Justin was up and standing in front of him.

"Calm down," he said softly, his hands rubbing up and down Brian's upper arms.

Still, Brian saw only red. He wanted nothing more than to drive to New York, track down the sick fuck and beat his ass into the ground.

"Brian," Justin's hand gripped Brian's chin and the trance broke. Justin's eyes were filled with worry. Brian wrapped his arms around him and inhaled the scent of his cheap drugstore shampoo. If Justin thought he was going back to New York now, he was fucking nuts.

He didn't notice when Jennifer and Molly got up and left the room. He only vaguely realized they were gone when Justin pulled away and guided Brian to sit with him on the couch.

"What happened?" Justin asked suddenly, concern clouding his features as his fingers traced along the pink scar that crossed Brian's cheek.

"Nothing," Brain pulled his head away from the touch and grasped Justin's hand in his, "you need to tell me what the fuck happened in New York."

Justin sighed and shook his head.

"I didn't think it was worth the hassle."

"What," Brian prompted, feeling uneasy again.

"I didn't think it was anything," Justin shook his head again.

"I started getting random phone calls from a bunch of different phone numbers. I answered them at first because I thought they were the different galleries I was visiting calling me back. But no one was ever on the other end. Or if someone was there they didn't say anything. They would just breathe heavy and sometimes let out soft moans. So I stopped answering altogether. Then I started finding strange items outside our door. Sometimes flowers, sometimes chocolates, sometimes cards."

"Justin," Brian shook his head.

"I know," the younger man leveled his blue eyes at Brian, "I know, okay?"

"Annie said it was a little weird, but I never saw anyone so I didn't think anything of it. I still don't know what prompted this attack on my studio space – but this guy knew more artists than just me worked in there because it was only my stuff that was touched. The others all said their stuff was as they'd left it."

"And the fucker took a shit in there, too?"

Justin just nodded.

Brian clenched his jaw as he imagined all the things he wished he could do to the bastard.

"When I got home - it was just this morning that I found the space like that - I found a handwritten note on my door that said something to the effect of, I can't wait to be with you," Justin laughed nervously.

"That was it. I called the police, again, and they added the letter to the evidence they'd collected from the studio. Then I packed a few things, spent the last of my tips for cab fare and called my mom on the way to the airport. There was a ticket there waiting, and now here I am."

"Jesus. Why the fuck didn't you call me?" Brian had his hand on Justin's neck and was fondling his hair even as he struggled putting aside his annoyance at the other man.

"I didn't want to freak you out. And it wasn't a big deal," Justin shook his head. "I knew you were at work and I just had to get out of there," he added.

"Well you're sure as shit not going back," Brian stood then and began pacing in front of the sofa. "And if you fucking insist because you're your own man or whatever the fuck, I'm going to rent you studio space with fucking on-site security and surveillance."

"Brain-,"

"No," Brian held up a hand, cutting Justin off. "I'll buy you an entire fucking building to paint in. Where you'll be safe behind closed and locked doors that no one can get through uninvited."

"Brian-,"

"Justin," Brian ran a hand through his hair, still pacing, as he tried to make sense of the rambling thoughts in his head. Too much. It was all too much. A fucking stalker? Flowers? Candy? Notes? Threats? Destruction?

"You've proven you can make it on your own. And if you're going to yell at me you can just save it. I'd rather you be pissed at me and safe than...," Brian's voice trailed off as he got lost in a flashing moment of a memory – watching Justin stand up to Chris Hobbs outside of Woody's. He'd taken a stand, he hadn't been afraid.

"You did it. On your own. Now you can let me help," Brian stopped moving and stared at Justin, who was looking at him with an amused expression.

Brian raised his eyebrows in question. He didn't appreciate the lack of seriousness with which Justin seemed to be taking the situation. Fuck, that psycho could really hurt him if he went back and he didn't seem to care. Brian was determined, though. No matter if Justin thought he was being controlling, or overbearing, it didn't matter because his first priority was to keep Justin safe, and if he insisted on going back to New York it would not achieve that goal in any way, shape or form unless he had somewhere safe to go.

"I don't think you should go back," Brian blurted, his tone causing Justin's amused expression to fade somewhat.

The blonde stood from the couch and approached Brian, reaching his arms up and around his neck.

"I love that you want to protect me," Justin smiled and pressed his lips lightly to Brian's.

"But?" Brian whispered, his hands resting lightly on Justin's waist, his fingers working the hem of his shirt up so he could feel his warm, soft skin beneath.

"I feel like a fucking coward. I mean I've never run away from a fight in my life," Justin sighed, and Brian felt his chest tighten in response.

"You're not running away, and you're not a coward. Fuck. You're the least cowardly person I know," Brian said, his eyes locked on Justin's blue ones.

Justin smiled and nodded, lowering his head and pressing his forehead to Brian's sternum, his fingers playing idly with the hair at the nape of Brian's neck.

"I'm not going back," Justin murmured then, and Brian had to pause, unsure if he'd heard the words correctly.

"What?" he pushed Justin away slightly, so the other man was forced to raise his head. His blue eyes stared back at Brian before he moved closer again, his lips hovering just centimeters away from Brian's, and his breath was warm and wet against Brian's face.

"I'm not going back," he breathed.

Brian didn't know whether to laugh, or yell, or throw Justin down on the carpet and fuck him right there, Jennifer and Molly be damned.

"You're not," Brian repeated, as if to make sure he'd heard him correctly. After everything, he had to make sure.

"No," Justin leaned all the way in then, and offered Brian a proper 'hello' kiss, full of tongue, and lips, and all the pent up passion that he evidently felt – which matched Brian's in its intensity.

Brian had a million questions, and million things he wanted to say, and do, but fuck it all because he couldn't stop touching and feeling the body in his arms. The heat radiating off Justin was contagious, and Brian felt his sexual frustration rising even higher. He thought he might come in his Armani suit pants just from the touch and feel of Justin's body pressed against him.

"Let's go back to the loft," Brian whispered when they finally broke apart, breathless. He was hard and horny and he could feel just how hard and horny Justin was too – he was pressing urgently into his thigh.

But Justin stiffened slightly and pulled back, separating them. Brian knew he'd said or done something wrong he just wasn't sure what. All he knew was he could see Justin retreating, pulling back, closing himself off and he needed to stop it.

"What did I do now," Brian said, trying not to sound accusatory but sure he was failing miserably.

"It's not you. I just…I want to be sure. I don't want to be the one to hurt you," Justin reached out and fingered the collar of Brian's shirt before letting his hand reach back around Brian's neck. "It's only a few more days."

Aha. The test.

But Justin? Hurt Brian? Yeah, right. This entire mess was due to Brian's ridiculous method of pain management, and his obscene overindulgence of drugs and alcohol. If one of them should be worried about hurting the other, it should be Brian. Hell, if he allowed himself to consider the potential outcomes of the situation they were in, the fear of hurting Justin so tragically was almost paralyzing.

Still he reminded himself, again, that the chances of testing positive at this point were so small they were almost negligible, but the fact was the chance still existed. And of course, leave it to Justin to be the smarter of them. No sense in tempting fate at this point. They'd waited six months, what was waiting a few more days, as painful, literally, as it was to wait even one more second.

"When was your test?" Brian asked.

"Yesterday," Justin sighed.

"Me too," Brian offered a small smile. "At least we should find out the same day."

Justin laughed, though it sounded forced.

"So I guess you won't come home with me," Brian murmured as Justin's fingers dug into his neck, massaging the tightness still lingering there after his bought with the muscle spasms.

"I don't think I should," Justin whispered, "I'll stay here for a few days at least. It'll be more convenient for Michael and I to work on Rage. The next issue is due out soon and we actually have a lot of work to do."

"Well you can stay at the loft," Brian looked around the small space that was Jennifer's post-divorce townhome, "if you want your privacy."

Justin nodded and smiled. This time it appeared genuine.

"Are you going to tell me about this now?" Justin reached a hand out once again, his fingers tracing over the pink scar across Brian's cheek.

Brian shook his head before pressing his cheek into Justin's touch. That story could wait for another day.

* * *

Justin may not have gone home with Brian, but he did visit Gus and Lindsay every afternoon while Brian was at work. Justin would spend his mornings with Michael working on Rage, before heading to the house in the afternoons when Gus was done with school. The three of them would paint, and play with the puppy (who had taken an immediate liking to Justin), and go swimming. The days were slowly cooling as fall loomed, but there was still enough warmth in the afternoons to give them several hours of time to enjoy the water.

Returning to the house the night of Justin's reappearance, Brian called the gallery in New York to have the paining he'd purchased shipped to him. If Justin wasn't going back, then Brian wanted the painting with him. He couldn't wait to see it, too. He'd only seen a bad photograph of it but even that was enough to tell Brian he'd done the right thing, buying it sight unseen. He couldn't wait to get it in hand and surprise Justin with it.

Gus was also ecstatic to have Justin around again, though he didn't understand why he wasn't staying the night like he had the last time he'd visited. Brian couldn't really answer Gus's questions, because he wasn't sure how. It barely made sense to him so he didn't know how he'd explain to a five-year-old.

The days passed quickly, which was a relief. The three of them would have dinner together when Brian would get home from work, and Gus would regale him with tales and anecdotes from their day. Brian loved listening to his son talk. Occasionally he would feel a rush of adrenaline, a desperate need to escape that made him want to sprint from the table at lightening-speed and get the hell out of the "domestication" he'd found himself, somewhat unwillingly, forced into. But most of the time he found his new life to be sufficient. He was, well, almost happy. The more he considered it the more he knew that the only thing that would truly make him happy would be Justin there with him; with them. One big, slightly odd and slightly dysfunctional family.

Gus was thriving, regardless. He loved going to school and as he became friends with his classmates Brian could see him growing stronger and more independent. He was almost unrecognizable from the hurt and scared little boy he'd been earlier in the year, when his life had been thrown upside down. It thrilled Brian to see Gus so transformed, and so fucking happy.

Brian was even growing tolerable of the puppy, allowing it to sit on his lap a few times; though he still refused to pet it or talk to it. On the rare occasions he showed even the littlest affection for the dog, the smirks on the faces of Lindsay and Justin did not escape his notice.

For the most part though, even though Justin was around for hours on end each evening, he and Brian stayed apart. They would kiss hello and they would kiss goodbye but the rest of the time they wouldn't touch. For Brian it was a matter of self-control. He wasn't sure he could put his hands on Justin and not want to rip his clothes off and fuck his brains out. And it wasn't fair to Justin to make him have to be the "bad guy" and refuse Brian. No, it was better not to tempt himself at all.

Then, finally, Brian got his 6-month HIV test results.

* * *

It was Thursday and Brian, knowing what the day held in store for both he and Justin, had decided to work from home. All he had scheduled for the day were a few conference calls as well as some copy to approve, all of which he could do remotely. He knew he was driving his staff crazy with his unpredictable schedule, but so far they all seemed to be handling it as well as could be expected. Brian was convinced that once his life settled back into some sort of routine, he wouldn't be so all over the place. At least he hoped – which was strange. Hoping for normalcy…who would have thought?

What Brian didn't find comforting was it was also Jesse's day to work with Lindsay. Brian hadn't seen Jesse again since the week prior, when he'd been so close to letting Jesse "massage" him. He knew Lindsay was still irritated with him for what she perceived as shameless flirting with her physical therapist, and Brian didn't have the heart or the courage to tell her it was Jesse who kept coming on to Brian. Though, Brian wasn't doing much to discourage the behavior. Still, he would not be sad not to see Jesse yet again. He could only hope Jesse would finish working with Lindsay before Justin showed up. The last thing Brian needed was for them to meet because he wasn't entirely sure Justin wouldn't see immediately what had almost happened between them, and on more than one occasion. He wasn't an idiot, he knew Brian too well…and Brian didn't want to give Justin cause or reason to doubt him, or make him have to ask. Brian wanted Justin to know that there had been no one. That he'd waited just so they could be with each other again.

It was nearing the end of Gus's school day when Brian finally got the call. He'd heard Jesse leaving about 30 minutes earlier, and had just heard Lindsay leave to go get Gus when his phone rang.

Suddenly the moment was upon him, and Brian was truly terrified. He almost couldn't answer the phone. The fear of being one of the teeny, tiny percentages of people who test positive at six months after several negative tests, suddenly very real. But he swallowed the fear, and took the call.

NEGATIVE.

He was negative. It was over.

Fucking halleluiah.

Brian's entire body went slack as he slumped back into his desk chair, sinking into the plush leather and letting the words sink in. Negative. HIV negative. All of that pain, and suffering, and stress was over. Done. He would be okay.

The odds of Justin testing positive at this point were so slim they were practically transparent, but still there, so Brian saved any real celebrating for when, he was certain, Justin got his call. Now if only the little twat would hurry up and arrive!

To kill some time while he waited for Justin to get to the house, Brian decided to share his good news with Sam. The root of the situation, the man who had started it all, but who had turned out to be a friend, and voice Brian could really listen too. He was, in Brian's mind, the one really responsible for his reuniting with Justin.

Sam was still in Pittsburgh – they were launching a new campaign for White Water Pale Ale and another trio of beers in the upcoming week. He was there to make sure Brian, and Kinnetik, got the multiple campaigns off without problem.

The other man answered on the first ring and Brian didn't even bother with a greeting. He simply announced his news.

"Negative," he couldn't help but grin to himself, the smile growing wider as he heard Sam offer what could only be interpreted as a huge sigh of relief.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Thank the Lord," Sam said and Brian laughed.

"I didn't think you were a religious man," Brian added and Sam chuckled softly.

"Just this once," he said quietly and Brian's smile faded. Now that he was clear of it, he could finally see what kind of stress this must have put on Sam. Brian could imagine how he must have felt – knowing he could have potentially spread HIV not only to Brian, but to Justin.

"What about…?" Sam asked.

"Don't know yet, but I'm betting on negative," Brian attempted to sound nonchalant and upbeat, hoping to alleviate some of the concern Sam likely felt.

"Yeah, at this point it's fairly given that he'll be negative," Sam responded and Brian nodded.

"You doing okay?" Brian asked, for the first time, feeling some concern that Sam didn't seem himself. Finally, without his own health to think about and with the almost certain negative test result coming from Justin, Brian was allowing himself to consider Sam and his roller coaster of a ride the last six months.

"Oh, you know," Sam sighed.

"Not really," Brian answered, lightheartedly but garnering no response from the other man.

"Domestic problems," Sam responded.

Ah. Jake. Ultimately, Brian blamed Jake for everything. He really was the one who started it all. He was the one who had screwed around without a condom, infected Sam, and led them all down this awful path. Yet – if it hadn't been for Jake would Brian have let Justin back into his life? If Brian had not seen Sam again, if they hadn't shared the HIV secret, would they have become friends outside of work? Would Sam have convinced Brian that he was losing out on more than he knew by pushing Justin away? Or would he and Sam have reconnected on a more primal level, and to hell with professionalism?

It didn't matter – what was done, was done. Still…Brian felt responsible to return the favor and offer Sam what little advice he felt he could give.

"I'll ask you what I asked Emmett a few weeks ago," Brian took a breath. "Do you love Jake?"

"Yes," Sam answered, fast and without any apparent thought.

"Then you owe it to yourself to try and work it out. I don't know what's going on, and I don't want to know, but if you love him, maybe it's worth working it out," Brian couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. All his life he'd been the poster-child fighting tooth and nail against 'love'. He'd never believed in it, and he'd never wanted it in his life. But it had found him anyway and it had taken him years to admit his feelings out loud. Now, here he was, convincing not one friend, but two friends, to give love a chance.

Just as Brian was hanging up the phone with Sam, he heard Lindsay come in with Gus in tow. Moments later, Brian heard Gus let Sunny into the house from his daytime hideaway in the garage. Brian, willing to let Gus have the dog inside, would not let the thing stay inside and underfoot while he was home working, so to the garage the puppy went.

Closing down his computer, Brian headed downstairs, finding Lindsay and Gus in the kitchen with Sunny. Gus was trying to make Sunny perform tricks for his treats, and he was doing well, sitting and lying down when told. But he hadn't yet mastered the 'stay' command.

"Honey, go change out of your school clothes, then you can take Sunny out back and throw the ball, okay?" Lindsay took the last two doggy treats from Gus, much to Sunny's dismay, before she gently swatted his rear and he took off running. Sunny only paused for a millisecond to look longingly at the treats in Lindsay's hand before he took off after Gus.

"Something up?" Brian asked. Lindsay's mood ever since she'd walked in on he and Jesse had been cold and distant.

"You are infuriating," Lindsay threw the dog treats onto the island and wiped her hands on her pants.

"What did I do now," Brian asked, not bothering to hide his sarcasm.

"I just can't get over how you're treating Justin!" Lindsay rolled to the fridge and pulled out a Pale Ale. "It's shameful. After what he's been through, you're just stringing him along again."

"Lindsay," Brian sighed, "what the fuck are you talking about? I'm not stringing along anyone. And where the fuck is this coming from?"

"You are letting him slip away!" she took a long swig of the beer before she set it down a bit too hard on the countertop, causing beer to splash out the top. "He's right here, now! Yet you won't fight for him! You're letting him slip away again. It's…it's…fuck! It's insulting!"

"I'm not letting him slip away," Brian responded calmly.

"Then where is he? He's certainly not here! Why isn't he here, Brian? Really? Tell me," Lindsay crossed her arms and stared at him, waiting.

"It's…he's not…he's got things to do," Brian stammered and Lindsay rolled her eyes. "He's working on Rage with Mikey, and you know. Other things."

"Other things," Lindsay shook her head. "You're wasting your chances, again. He's within reach, and you're choosing to be apart. Hell, you're flirting with my fucking physical therapist! How many other guys have you been fucking while Justin has been in New York, struggling to live?"

Brian stared at his friend with his mouth hanging open. He had no answers to give, because the truth was not something Lindsay would want to hear, and he wasn't going to lie to her.

"I'd give anything to have one more day with Mel," Lindsay grabbed her beer and rolled closer to Brian, so close the foot rests of her chair were actually digging into Brian's shins. "And you're just…spitting in my face!"

"Lindsay-," Brian suddenly realized why she was reacting so strongly and he wanted nothing more than to reassure her that he wasn't throwing away one of the few good things left in his life.

"Am I interrupting?" Justin stood in the archway that led into the kitchen. Brian felt a moment of panic, wondering how much of the argument he'd overheard, but the look on his face indicated he probably had just walked in.

"No," Lindsay smiled sadly and with one last glare at Brian she rolled out of the room.

Brian watched Justin as he looked after Lindsay. When he turned back to face Brian his expression showed concern.

"Is she okay?" he walked into the room.

"She's pissed at me," Brian shrugged, "nothing new. She'll get over it."

Brian grinned then, anxious to hear if Justin had any particular news to share.

"I have some good news," Justin said then, and Brian felt his heart-rate increase in anticipation.

"The NYPD caught the guy," Justin smiled and Brian felt his own smile falter some. It wasn't the news he was expecting. Still good, but not _the_ news.

"Oh, that's great," Brian nodded and when Justin laughed he felt a scowl cross his face.

"Also," Justin moved forward and rested his arms on Brian's shoulders, "I'm negative."


	19. Naked Love

"_I have some good news," Justin said then, and Brian felt his heart-rate increase in anticipation._

"_The NYPD caught the guy," Justin smiled and Brian felt his own smile falter some. It wasn't the news he was expecting. Still good, but not the news._

"_Oh, that's great," Brian nodded and when Justin laughed he felt a scowl cross his face._

"_Also," Justin moved forward and rested his arms on Brian's shoulders, "I'm negative."_

Brian felt something soothing suddenly blossom from the pit of his stomach and rise up, warming him. It was a kind of warm heat that was oddly comforting yet frightening at the same time and it was accompanied by a repeating mantra in his head, _Justin was okay. He was safe._

It was as if every last bit of tension leached from his body and with a long, unsteady sigh, Brian pulled Justin hard to him, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing him as tightly as he could; he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to let go again. Lowering his face to the crook of Justin's neck, Brian pressed his lips to his skin and inhaled his scent.

"I take it you're negative too," Justin mumbled, his words muffled as his face was pressed tight against Brian.

Brian just nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak.

He was beginning to understand the soothing feeling he was having – it was similar to the feeling he'd had when he'd been told Justin had woken up from the coma after the bashing and like that time, Brian felt his emotions cart-wheeling wildly out of his control. He was slowly losing any last hold he had and he could feel all the fear and shame he'd been suppressing the last six months rushing forward and mixing with an immense relief and an overwhelming surge of love, all directed towards Justin. The thought, the very idea of anyone – himself included – causing pain or injury to Justin shook him to his very core. He hated himself for what he'd done, and he swore on the souls of everyone he loved that he would do better. That Justin deserved better. Hell; he deserved better, too.

Justin was holding on to Brian just as tight and when Brian lifted him from his feet and carried him out of the kitchen towards the stairs Justin's arms tightened around him even more. At the base of the stairs Brian put him down and Justin looked up at him, a twinkle in his eye and a patented Sunshine grin on his face.

Brian, the rising heat and the emotional wave both reaching critical mass, gestured for Justin to go up to the bedroom.

Brian followed the blonde, fighting the betraying sting behind his eyes as tears prickled and attempted to break the tough exterior he struggled so hard to maintain. He was feeling every emotion in that moment. Sorrow, joy, love, fear, anxiety; but even with all that, the desire to have Justin naked in his bed was still the strongest.

They said nothing as Brian closed his bedroom door and locked it. They just stared at each other. Brian thought he saw some kind of acknowledgement of his emotional struggle cross Justin's features as he stared back at him, but just as quickly as it was there, it was gone. If he saw how hard Brian was working to keep himself together, he didn't let on. Instead, the other man simply reached out and pulled off Brian's shirt before kissing and biting at his nipples. Brian closed his eyes and leaned his head back, one hand in Justin's hair while the other unbuttoned his jeans and reached in to stroke his already fully hard cock.

Justin paused in his endeavor to remove his own shirt before resuming tasting and touching every part of Brian's exposed skin. He soon fell to his knees and gently removed Brian's hand from his pants before pulling them down and taking Brian's dick in his mouth.

It had been months – months! – since anyone had touched his cock. Well, if the few minutes in Woody's bathroom with Jesse were ignored – and Brian conveniently did ignore them.

After all those months of somewhat self-imposed, forced celibacy, the sensation of having Justin's mouth on him was nearly an overload of the senses. Brian had forgotten what Justin could do with his tongue and he was honestly afraid he'd come before he'd even stepped out of the pool of his jeans.

Pulling Justin off him, Brian helped him stand before he got on his knees and pulled the other man's jeans off, returning the favor and taking Justin into his mouth, invigorated by the moans and thrusts the other man offered as Brian sucked and licked and bit. But he didn't want Justin to come yet either so after a few minutes he stood. Wrapping his arms around Justin's body he lifted him off his feet once more and carried him the short distance to the bed where he, fairly unceremoniously, threw Justin down before he covered the other man with his own body.

Their cocks were hard and leaking and Brian grinded his hips as he attacked Justin's mouth with his. His hands went to the blonde's hair, where they twirled and pulled at the long, soft strands. Justin's legs spread beneath Brian as he lifted his hips and wrapped them around him, crossing his ankles at Brian's back and meeting his hips thrusts as they pressed against each other as hard and fast as they could.

Brian was on the verge of losing all control and he was so desperate to get off that he nearly let it happen – but as he felt himself nearing that cliff he stilled, letting his full body weight press down on Justin, forcing the other man to stop moving too. Staring into Justin's eyes, Brian felt all the emotions he'd successfully pushed down moments earlier start to rise back up. He couldn't help but think as he stared into the clear blue eyes of the man beneath him, about how fucking lucky he was that Justin hadn't given up on him. That even after everything he'd done, over all the years they'd been "together", after all the hurt and heartbreak he'd inflicted (sometimes inadvertently, but not always) that he'd stayed around. Brian could not understand what it was Justin saw that kept him there, fighting for him and encouraging him.

Brian knew he was a shit – a cruel and heartless shit even though he tried so very hard to be a better man it was counter to his nature; or so he thought.

But Justin…Justin seemed to see something in him worth loving and worth waiting for. All Brian knew was it was a fucking miracle the blonde was still there – and Brian intended to make sure he never had another reason to doubt him again. He intended to make sure he never had another reason to want to leave.

These realizations, along with the feel of the other man, hot and sweaty and hard beneath him, heightened everything and Brian was once again on the very brink of losing his tenuous hold of his emotions.

Refusing to let Justin see him break down, Brian nuzzled his head into Justin's neck, kissing and biting and nibbling at the spot that he knew drove the other man crazy. He felt Justin start to squirm underneath him and with a soft sigh Brian rolled them over, so Justin was now lying on top of Brian, straddling him.

The blonde raised his head and gave a questioning look to which Brian didn't respond. Instead, he ran his hands up Justin's thighs, to his ass, and then up his back before ending at his head where he grabbed on to his hair and gently pulled him down into a kiss.

This time it was slow and deep. Some of the urgency had been left behind. Brian felt Justin's weight shift to the side and then he heard the familiar crinkling sound of a condom wrapper.

Opening his eyes, Brian gently pushed Justin back and with slightly more force than was necessary he grabbed the condom from the other man and shook his head.

Justin looked at him quizzically before his eyes widened. He sat up fully and stared down at Brian, his expression still unsure.

"Yeah?" he asked, his voice soft.

Brian only nodded. He didn't trust his voice not to betray his wildly fluctuating emotions. And he was absolutely sure. They'd basically been celibate for six months and they were both negative. If ever there was a time… And Brian wanted it – more than he could remember wanting anything else in his life. He wanted there to be no barriers between them; just he and Justin, together for real.

Justin smiled at Brian and reached over to the nightstand to retrieve the lube. He moved to squirt some into his hand when Brian reached up again to stop him.

Justin once more looked at him with some confusion.

Brian didn't want to explain, or have to spell it out, or speak his desire at all…he wanted Justin to understand on his own. He knew he would get there eventually, and he did after a few moments. His eyes grew wider still and if Brian had been in control of his emotions he might have burst out laughing – if he wasn't certain it would only turn into tears.

"Brian-," Justin murmured his name and looked down on him, his hands traveling across Brian's chest, softly massaging his muscles while spreading a heat and desire through Brian's already ready and willing body.

Shaking his head again, Brian closed his eyes and offered a crooked smile. It was what he wanted. It was what he needed and he wanted no more words about it.

Justin's weight shifted as he moved down between Brian's legs, pushing them apart before his fingers started probing around his hole. Brian's ass, like his cock, hadn't been touched by another man for months and months and as such the nerve endings, already sensitive simply by design, were on fire from even the slightest contact. It was once again all Brian could do to keep from yelling out as Justin massaged and poked and prodded. Soon his mouth took over, and Brian thought he might fall over the edge once more.

Finally unable to stand it any longer he managed to utter the three words he rarely said out loud, but which he said over and over with his actions; the three words that he knew would send Justin into action, "I love you."

The younger man gazed upon him with such adoration and love that Brian's eyes began to prick once more with the threatening sting of tears. But Brian persevered and managed to shove that emotion back down deep into the cavernous well that had so successfully kept it at bay until now.

Justin took the lube back from Brian and after applying some to his cock, and to Brian, he hovered over him. With eyes locked he slowly pressed in. There was resistance, as Brian knew there would be, and there was pain, as Brian also knew there would be. But it was a sweet, sweet pain and as Justin pushed in slowly Brian knew there was no going back. In this moment he was giving himself entirely to this other man – and he knew Justin understood the multi-layered significance of what they were doing.

The pain faded, slowly, as Justin entered him completely, full to the hilt. He paused in his movements while Brian relaxed and let the pain slip away. Justin had his hands in Brian's hair and his lips on his neck, licking and kissing. When Brian lifted his hips slightly, causing Justin's cock to move against his prostate he gasped out loud at the sensation. It was only a moment later that Justin began to move and Brian let himself drift away on the waves of pleasure.

Brian had only let Justin top him a handful of times yet the way he felt moving inside Brian, skin on skin, was like coming home. It was a feeling so familiar to Brian it was as if it was this way all the time.

Justin moved slowly, with deliberate thrusts that sent shock waves through Brian's body. He didn't want it to stop, yet he also wanted it to go faster. He was desperate for release yet he also wanted the build-up continue forever.

Reaching arms down to grasp at Justin's bare ass, Brian pressed his hips upward, meeting Justin's thrusts and sending the other man's cock even deeper still. The feel of him, unsheathed, inside of him, was blissful. Heavenly. Like nothing he had felt before.

Justin, panting and softly moaning with exertion and pleasure, raised his head to stare at Brian.

Brian felt his eyes begin leak and tears unbidden and out of his control started slipping from both eyes, sliding slowly down the sides of his face yet still he held Justin's gaze. He wanted to see his face while he was inside him. He wanted to watch him come and more than anything else he wanted to feel him come while he was inside him.

God he was beautiful.

Fuck this was so right.

Shit, he really was offering him _everything_.

It was quickly becoming too much and Brian, suddenly afraid of exposing too much of himself, pulled Justin down to his chest, holding him tightly while they moved together. Justin rocked his hips, thrusting his cock into Brian's ass while Brian raised his hips to meet the thrusts. Brian could feel Justin's hot breath on his bare chest, he could feel Justin's hands grabbing at his hair, his fingers both massaging Brian's scalp and pulling gently at the tendrils that fell long around his face.

The accumulation of emotions from the last several months was bearing down on him like a freight train and Brian knew there was no reining them in this time. His breath caught in his throat as he choked back tears. He felt Justin try to raise his head to look at him and he immediately pulled Justin's head back down. He couldn't allow him to see the tears that were now flowing freely from his eyes.

Instead Brian channeled his emotion into his body's motion. They were so close together it was like they were one. They moved harder, faster. Brian wrapped his long legs around Justin trapping him tightly inside him. Between their bodies his cock was hard and firm, leaking from the tip as he approached his limit. Wiping his tears in Justin's hair he urged the younger man on, begging him to fuck him harder, faster, deeper. He lifted his hips slightly to adjust the angle of Justin's entry and felt the difference in pressure immediately. His eyes, still wet from tears, squeezed shut as waves of pleasure reached their peak and coursed through him. He groaned loudly, allowing another soft cry to escape his lips. Justin didn't try to look up again, but Brian sensed a change in him. His hands, which had been desperate in their endeavors in his hair, suddenly moved with much more care, traveling down to Brian's face and stroking his cheeks. Justin's touch only made the ache in Brian's heart grow, weakening any little bit of resolve he might have had left. Soon another wave of pleasure as well as tears washed over him.

"Harder," Brian moaned, desperate for release but not wanting this intimacy to end. Brian wanted him inside him, deep inside him, so he squeezed his legs tighter, encouraging him to fuck him harder.

"Please," Brain gasped, trying to control his voice as he feared he would release another sob, "harder, Sunshine."

Justin seemed to respond to his nickname and Brian felt him push ever deeper inside him. He thought he heard Justin moaning his name against his chest, but he couldn't be sure as his head was pounding with the rush of blood and endorphins. Hands holding his head, threading through his blond locks, Brian lifted his hips faster, feeling the buildup of release deep inside him.

"Fuck, yes," Brian groaned as his ass tightened around Justin, creating more pressure and more pleasure. He heard Justin moan in response.

"Wait," Brian panted. He wanted them to come together; he wanted to feel Justin's release even as he was riding his own wave of orgasm. He wanted to hold Justin's trembling body to him as they gave each other the pleasure they each needed and craved from the other.

It was the one thing they had always been perfect for each other for.

"Justin," Brian grunted, the tingling in his groin spreading as it started.

He cried out just as Justin rammed into him hard and fast a few more times and then they were in it together. Justin, shuddering as he shot, filled Brian and Brian could feel it – Justin's warm wetness inside him. He wanted to hold on to the feeling for as long as he could.

Brian, as he fell into the chasm of pleasure, riding the waves as they crested again and again, felt the very last bit of restraint slip from his grasp and his eyes filled as the wound in his gut opened wide. Justin in his arms, Brian was completely powerless to hold back the single hitching sob that escaped him.

He had very nearly ruined everything. He had very nearly let this man walk out of his life forever. The only person undoubtedly patient and understanding enough to put up with his bullshit – who _had_ put up with his bullshit for years. He had almost let him walk away; or rather he had almost let Justin allow himself to be shoved away.

If not for Melanie's death…it was ironic, really. Lindsay and Melanie's tragedy was the reason Brian had Justin in his arms now. If Melanie hadn't died, and if Brian hadn't been called upon to take care of his son, he never would have seen Justin again. Of that, he was certain. Brian, letting Justin go to New York, had fully intended to give him up; to let him go and never see him again. He wouldn't have turned him away if he'd come back, but Brian had never had any intention of going after him.

Now he had no idea why he'd thought that way; or why he'd thought it would be a good idea in any way.

For the first few days after Justin's departure he'd been okay, but then the loneliness set in and he'd grown progressively more and more miserable the weeks leading up to the accident. He had been wandering, aimlessly and without any real purpose. He hadn't known why; or maybe he hadn't allowed himself to realize why. He wasn't sure which was true.

It wasn't as if Justin had been his sole purpose – because he hadn't been; he wasn't. But Justin had had an uncanny ability to bring out the best in Brian, to shine a light on his value as a man and a person; Justin had the ability to make Brian believe in his own worth; Justin had the ability to free and magnify the parts of Brian that he kept closed off for fear of being hurt.

Justin, from almost the beginning, had made Brian believe he was worth more than just what he perceived as the sums of his parts – that he was the best fuck on Liberty Avenue and the best ad man in Pittsburgh.

Brian couldn't even fathom where he'd be now if the accident hadn't happened… All he knew was he'd be a fucking fall down, miserable mess. And he'd be alone. Alone and a truly over-the-hill club boy who would be unable to gain even a fraction of real joy or satisfaction from fucking and sucking nameless, faceless, emotionless men.

No amount of random men in his bed could match, or make up for, the absence of one single, particular man.

"Brian," Justin finally whispered, resisting against Brian's hold. Only then did Brian release him.

Justin lifted his head and met Brian's eyes. His face was full of concern and love and Brian bit back a fresh wave of painful tears. Justin didn't say a word as his hand moved to cup Brian's cheek, his thumb gently wiping away the residual wetness.

Leaning down, Justin kissed the damp trail of tears on Brian's other cheek before he slowly rose and pulled out. Brian groaned with the loss, feeling more empty and alone than he had before Justin's arrival.

Brian struggled to regain any control of his wildly out of control emotions, clenching his jaw hard even as he felt Justin's hands on his face, stroking his cheeks, winding in his hair. He felt the soft breaths of the other man on him as Justin whispered soothing words in his ear. Brian didn't really hear the words – all he knew was the sound of Justin's voice was all he ever wanted and the feel of Justin's body against him was all he ever needed.

Brian held Justin tightly to him. They were sweaty and sticky and messy but he didn't care. He wanted to feel the heat of Justin's body against him; he wanted to feel the beat of Justin's heart pounding against his own. He just wanted Justin there – loving him and being loved in return. He finally understood why people craved this. He finally, truly wanted it for himself.

They didn't speak for a long time. They just laid there, wrapped up in each other. Soon the heat between them cooled and their sweat dried. The sky outside the bedroom windows grew darker blue and stars began appearing as the afternoon faded to night. Still, Brian couldn't and wouldn't let go. He was famished, having not eaten since lunch, yet in that moment he would have rather died of starvation then let go of Justin.

As the sky transitioned from navy blue to black, Justin began to stir and Brian reluctantly loosened his hold. The other man was surely as hungry as he was and they most certainly needed to shower, too. Hell, Brian still had Justin's cum up his ass. Yet a part of him didn't want to wash it away. It was symbolic – what he'd allowed the other man to do – and Brian wanted to keep a part of that with him. He would, in his memory, but in that moment he wanted more than the memory.

Feeling Justin pulling away, Brian relinquished his hold and met the concerned blue eyes of the other man as he raised his head and ran his hands through Brian's hair, smoothing back the strands. Brian could only imagine how wildly they were sticking up; it made him smile.

"Okay?" Justin whispered and Brian, by way of answer, pulled him back down into a soft kiss.

Justin smiled as they parted and with a sigh, rolled off the bed and headed to the bathroom. Brian watched him, admiring his beautiful rear end before he too slid off the bed and followed.

The two men tenderly and carefully washed each other clean. Justin's touch was especially soft as he washed Brian's back and behind and Brian, who hadn't bottomed for…well…a very, very long time, bit his lower lip as the soreness began to set in. It had been worth it, though. The pain and pleasure had signified a kind of rebirth for Brian and as Justin's hands softly washed him he just let the emotional pain and strife of the last six months slough off him and swirl down the shower drain. He never intended to feel any of it again and it was freeing to finally let it go. For the first time in a long time Brian felt truly happy, even as the eternal pessimist inside him tried to give voice to all the things that could still go wrong. Brian quieted that voice though – content to revel in the joy of being with Justin again, and allowing himself only to briefly wonder why in the heck he'd pushed the other man away to begin with.

"I love you," Justin murmured from behind Brian as he placed soft kisses on the nape of Brian's neck, bringing him back to the present.

Though he knew Justin's declaration wasn't because he was asking for the words in return, Brian still wanted him to know…he had to make him know.

Turning, Brian gently gripped Justin's face in his hands and stared hard into the blue eyes. They looked back at Brian with complete and total trust and it caused Brian's heart to swell. He placed a soft kiss on Justin's lips.

"I love you," he said, for the second time that night.

Ten minutes later, both of them clean and dry, the twosome ventured downstairs to scavenge for some food. Brian was slightly relieved to find a note from Lindsay that she had taken Gus into Pittsburgh to have dinner with Michael and Ben. It was her weekend with JR, so when they came back she'd have the toddler in tow.

"Hope you're prepared for a full house," Brian accepted the beer that Justin offered as they sat at the table and ate potato chips from the bag. There wasn't much else to eat that didn't require extensive preparations.

"Linds will have JR when they get back."

"Sounds great," Justin smiled and Brian couldn't help but return it and it wasn't but a few minutes later that Brian was pulling Justin back up the stairs where their focus was on nothing else but each other.

* * *

The next day was Friday, and though Brian didn't want to, he knew he had to go into the office. The second wave of ads for Sutton Brewery were scheduled to drop the following week and Brian only had a few days to make sure everything was in order as far as schedules and payments. He couldn't afford to mess this one up; he couldn't afford to lose his biggest client.

The alarm, set for 6:30am, went off as usual and Brian hit the snooze button with a loud groan. It felt like he had just gone to sleep. He groaned again as he rolled over to nuzzle against Justin's warm body but when he found the bed empty and cold he sat up quickly. Had it all been a dream?

As he rose from the bed Brian immediately knew it hadn't been a dream. His entire body ached from the acrobatics of the night, but the most telling sign that it had all been real was the throbbing ache in his ass. It was painful, yet also oddly comforting. Brian didn't think he'd be bottoming again for awhile yet still a part of him yearned to feel Justin inside him again.

Donning a pair of sweats, Brian hurried from the bedroom, the scent of coffee and eggs and bacon greeting him as he opened his bedroom door, beckoning him to the kitchen.

The smells grew stronger as he descended the stairs and approaching the kitchen he could hear the soft whispered voice of Justin, singing something that sounded suspiciously "Broadway". Brian suppressed a laugh.

"Mornin' Sunshine," Brian crooned as he entered the kitchen to see Justin swaying in front of the stove singing what sounded an awful lot like a song from "Evita". He was amused at the look of horrified embarrassment that briefly crossed Justin's face.

"Don't stop singing on my account," Brian smirked as he quickly closed the distance between them, pressing his body against Justin as the other man stirred the scrambled eggs in the frying pan.

"Smells delicious," Brian growled, kissing Justin's neck while simultaneously reaching around to squeeze his cock through the thin material of his sweats.

Justin had come without any of his clothes so he was wearing a pair of Brian's sweats, which were rolled up at the bottom because they were too long. That simple fact, coupled with him standing in the kitchen, blonde hair a wild mess and his creamy pale skin aglow made Brian crazy with desire.

"I was going to bring this upstairs," Justin leaned backwards into Brian while reaching behind and lightly swatting Brian's rear.

"But then I would have missed the concert," Brian whispered, biting Justin's earlobe. He moved away then, not trusting himself not to throw Justin onto the island and fuck him right there amidst all the breakfast fixings. But it wouldn't do for Lindsay to walk in on it, and it really wouldn't do for Gus to see it either.

"I have to get the car back to my mom," Justin turned and served up the eggs on two plates that were already loaded with bacon and toast. "She's showing a house in Altoona this morning."

Brian wrinkled his nose.

"Altoona?"

"It could make her a shitload on commission," Justin carried the two plates to the table.

"Well then I wish Mother Taylor the best," Brian smiled, pouring two cups of coffee before moving to the table to join Justin.

They were just finishing up when Lindsay rolled in, wrapped in a robe and her own blonde hair a wild mess.

"Morning Linds," Brian called out, grinning when his friend looked over to the table to see Brian, and Justin, smiling back at her.

She grinned knowingly before moving to pour herself some coffee and coming over to the table.

"When I saw the car still here last night I hoped…," she winked which caused Justin to laugh and Brian to roll his eyes.

"JR still sleeping?" Justin asked.

"Yeah," Lindsay sipped her coffee, "she's a late sleeper. It's just too bad I'm not so great at it. It'd be nice to sleep in once and awhile."

"I agree," Brian said, his hand under the table reaching to lightly pinch at Justin's inner thigh.

"I thought I'd take Gus into Pittsburgh today," Lindsay said, seeming to not notice Justin squirming under Brian's touch.

"Doesn't he have school?" Brian asked, his hand now stroking Justin's cock through the fabric of the sweat pants. Lindsay shook her head.

"Teacher in-service day," she shrugged. "The first of four."

"I'm glad my hard earned money is paying for all these teacher day's off," Brian grumbled. He didn't mean it, of course. Gus was as happy as Brian could remember seeing him, and he knew the school, his teacher, and the friends he'd made there were all a big part of that.

Lindsay shook her head and sighed, "Maybe we can all get lunch at the diner?"

Justin nodded, looking to Brian with an amused expression even as his hand wandered south of the border to meet Brian's, trying to form a barrier to his touch.

"Why the hell not," Brian grinned.

* * *

The morning seemed to drag on, at least for Brian. He was stuck in several tedious meetings for some of Kinnetik's smaller accounts – but it was still important he be there. He wanted all his clients to feel like they were the biggest and best and most important, even when it was glaringly obvious they weren't. Thus, after finishing his final morning meeting with the team responsible for the Burghendy Farms Chedder account Brian was ecstatic to get out of the office. Or rather, he was ecstatic to get to see Justin again. He would never admit it to anyone (and he barely admitted it to himself) but though it had only been five hours since they'd parted ways, Brian missed the little twat something fierce.

Their night of raw intimacy had triggered something in Brian. Some version of instinct he'd been certain he'd been born without – namely, the thought of a monogamous relationship. Not marriage, because Brian wasn't sure he'd ever be ready for that label, but he was ready to be with Justin, and only Justin.

He was the first to arrive at the diner, and was greeted immediately by Debbie.

"Brian," she snapped her gum and looked him up and down, "I haven't seen you around here for months."

"Been busy," he automatically replied, scanning the diner for an empty booth. Seeing one near the back he started towards it. He could hear Debbie following behind him. Her bangle bracelets clanged together while she popped and snapped her gum.

"Something to drink?" she asked as he settled into the booth, sitting facing the door so he could be bathed in the bright, warm sight of Justin's face when he appeared.

"Water," Brian answered, "and Linds and the kids will be joining me. And Justin."

Debbie's gum stopped popping for a few full seconds and Brian had to swallow a laugh.

"Okay," she resumed smacking, "I'll bring out five waters."

Brian nodded, not meeting her eyes though he knew she was hovering, staring at him hoping for something more of an explanation.

A few minutes later the door opened and Lindsay came in followed by Gus and Justin, the latter carrying JR. Brian grinned in spite of himself and Justin smiled widely back. Gus ran over to him, crawling into the bench next to Brian and grinning up at him.

"Hey there Sonny-boy," Brian ruffled the little boy's hair as Justin set JR into the opposite bench before he slid in next to her. Lindsay placed herself at the end of the table, her chair only slightly impeding the traffic flow to the jukebox, and the bathroom.

The newest busboy, a young, dark-haired kid with several ear and face piercings, set two kids menu's down on the table. Brian saw him eyeball Justin with very obvious interest before he sauntered away, his hips swaying a little too much to be anything but an open invitation to follow.

Brian raised his eyebrows and looked to Justin. They both laughed, which caused Gus to ask what was so funny, which made them laugh even harder. They were still chuckling with Debbie returned with five waters.

Brian's laughter faded as he watched Debbie eyeball him and Justin as she set the waters down.

"Hi Gramma!" Gus exclaimed, reaching his arms up for a hug and laughing when Debbie blew a raspberry on his cheek.

"How's my two favorite kiddos?" she beamed at Gus and JR in turn, apparently momentarily forgetting about the Brian/Justin mystery…

"Why aren't you in school, Mister?" Debbie asked.

Gus, having received his hug and kiss, had turned his attention to the crayons and puzzles on the placemat. He just shrugged.

"In-service day," Lindsay smiled up at Debbie.

"Ah," Deb nodded, her curious gaze returning to Brian and Justin.

"And what's this about?" She placed on hand on her hip and stood expectantly.

"I'm moving back," Justin answered and Brian saw a brief flash of concerned surprise cross Debbie's face before she broke out in a grin.

"Oh that's wonderful, Sunshine!" she exclaimed quite exuberantly, eliciting more than a few stares from the other patrons in the diner.

Brian couldn't help but feel a bit of judgment radiating off her, directed at him.

"I didn't know you were moving back!" Lindsay reached a hand out to Justin, caressing his arm as she grinned. She wasn't faking her joy at the news. Brian knew that much.

"I just decided," Justin said, "last night."

"What about New York?" Debbie asked.

"It wasn't working out," Justin grinned and Brian was glad to see it was one of his best and brightest. If anything could convince Debbie of the authenticity of Justin's decision it would be a Sunshine smile.

"Well," she smiled again too, looking to Brian briefly before addressing Justin once again, "I'm just glad you'll be back here. Now, what can I get you to eat?"

After ordering, Lindsay barraged Justin with a million questions – and apologized profusely for ever shoving Simon Caswell on him. She hadn't known he was looking to get out of New York and if she had, she never would have worked so hard to convince Justin to go to New York. She then apologized for ever even butting in. But Justin wouldn't have it, and he assured her it had been his decision; that no amount of pressure or cajoling from her could have made him go if he hadn't wanted to on some level.

Brian sat silent, watching Gus, and JR, attempt to color and draw on their placemats. Like Gus, JR was also enamored of coloring and crayons and Brian found it fascinating that she would sit and color quietly for as long as she did – being not even one and half yet. He supposed it was Lindsay's influence, though maybe she inherited more of Mikey's calm demeanor and creativity and less of Melanie's high-strung, wiry attitude.

"Will you be moving in then?" Lindsay asked and that caught Brian's attention. He looked up to meet Justin's questioning gaze.

He rolled his eyes at the blonde. Like Brian would make him live somewhere else?

"As soon as possible," Brian answered. Lindsay's grin was genuine and full of joy.

"Justin's gonna live with us?" Gus asked.

"Yeah," Brian nodded.

"Is that okay?" Justin asked and Gus smiled and nodded.

"Yeah! You can help me get better at painting," Gus said, "and we can train Sunny to paint, too!"

Brian laughed out loud, shocking his lunch companions – at least based on the wide-eyed expressions they wore as they looked at him.

"I don't know if dogs are very good painters," Brian said and Gus just shrugged.

"Maybe Sunny is, though," he said matter-of-factly and the three adults at the table shared a silent laugh.

"Can't argue with that," Lindsay smiled.

* * *

Brian returned to work that afternoon in wildly high spirits. He was so fucking happy he couldn't stand it. Things were finally falling into place, and settling down, and his life was taking shape. He could, for the first time in a very, very long time, see the future path that stretched out ahead of him and he was fucking excited to start down it.

Leaving Kinnetik a few minutes early, Brian stopped by Jennifer's to pick up Justin. He had his same black duffel that he'd been packing and moving with for the last several years and Brian silently swore to burn the thing when they got back to the house. It was a cursed object – a thing Brian never wanted to see again.

They headed to the loft then, and the door had barely slid closed behind them when Justin was tearing at Brian's shirt, popping buttons as he tore it off him.

The next couple hours were spent in various positions and in various rooms of the loft. The floor; the sofa; the table; the bed; the shower; the bed again; and the bed one more time. Brian, experiencing a new level of sensation with sex without condoms, could not get enough and it was only after both their stomachs growled in obvious hunger that they stopped.

Taking one more shower they headed to the diner for some food, then Babylon. Justin, who hadn't been out dancing since the Babylon reopening, told Brian he was excited to get back to the club. Brian too hadn't been back in awhile though he wasn't excited at the thought of going back. But, since he was the owner he figured it wouldn't be a bad thing to put in an appearance even though all he wanted to do was stay in bed (or wherever!) with Justin – fucking over and over and over…

Brian let them in the back door, and after stopping by the office to see if Ted was there (he wasn't), they headed out to the dance floor. The club was packed, as per usual, at least according to Ted, and the crowd was hot, and excited, and young. Brian, for the first time, felt the age difference between himself and the majority of the guys on the dance floor. There were some older guys around, but the place was definitely a mecca for young twenty-somethings. Brian watched as Justin was leered at by many of the shirtless guys they sauntered past. It amused him because Justin didn't even notice and when the leering guys saw Brian's hand in Justin's, their faces fell. Apparently his reputation still held some currency.

They finally made it to the bar where the bartender, one of a few employees Brian still recognized from before the bombing, smiled and without a word handed him two glasses of Chivas-Regal. He was about to down the scotch when a familiar face and voice inserted itself.

"Oh my God! You're here!" Emmett hopped up and down before pulling Justin into a fierce embrace. The younger man, fortunately for Emmett, had just emptied his glass.

"Hey Em," Justin laughed as Emmett let him go.

"I heard you were back, and I was so hoping I'd get to see you!" Emmett grinned, glancing sideways at Brian before turning back to Justin.

"I've missed your face, baby!'

"I've missed you all too," Justin nodded, inching closer to Brian and inserting himself between him and the bar, nestling into the hollow of his chest. Brian closed his eyes and buried his nose in Justin's hair, ignoring the loud thumpa-thumpa and wandering hands of the guys around them, focusing all his attentions on Justin.

"How long are you staying?" Emmett's voice pierced Brian's reverie and when he opened his eyes he saw Emmett watching them with a look on his face that appeared to be a mixture of jealousy and joy.

"I'm back to stay," Justin said, pulling Brian's arm around his chest and holding it tight.

Emmett's mouth dropped open and his eyes moved between Brian and Justin. Brian could see him tearing up. No doubt the romantic in him was playing out all sorts of scenarios of weddings and babies.

"Oh my God!" Clapping his hands, Emmett launched himself at Brian and Justin, squeezing them all together as he choked back tears. Brian even heard him gasping for air.

"I'm so happy for you," Emmett pulled back, grinning, "so happy! We must have a party!"

"Fuck that," Brian finally spoke, shaking his head.

"No more fucking parties," he said as Justin lightly elbowed him in the gut.

"No more parties?" Another man joined them, one who was quite familiar to both Brian and Justin. One Drew Boyd.

He appeared suddenly beside Emmett, throwing his arm around the other man's shoulders as he smiled warmly at Brian and Justin.

"You don't want Emmett to throw you a party?" he shook his head as he pressed a kiss to Emmett's cheek.

"Drew Boyd," Brian smirked, his eyes traveling to Emmett's face. He was fucking beaming. So Auntie Em had taken Brian's advice after all. Wonders never cease!

"Welcome back," Brian added with a nod.

"Let's dance," Justin tilted his head up to Brian and with a smile to both Emmett and Drew, Brian finally drank his scotch before he let Justin lead him out to the dance floor.

It was like no time had passed. They moved together seamlessly, and without effort, and Brian knew they were the envy of everyone there. It made him hard and they weren't long for the club after that – returning to the loft where they once again enjoyed each other's company through the night.

Lindsay had initially been leery of being alone with the kids on Friday night, but on Saturday morning when Brian called her to see how things had gone she had been quick to offer him another night on the town.

So Brian and Justin spent all day Saturday…well…fucking around before they went out to Babylon again that night.

Sunday morning they returned to the house in West Virginia; Britin, as Justin had christened it. It was now his home, too – finally.

To celebrate his homecoming, Lindsay had prepared some steaks and they had a nice day on the back patio, barbequing and watching as Gus and JR ran around, sometimes chasing and sometimes being chased by Sunny.

It was a scene of domesticity that only a few months earlier would have sent Brian running, screaming for the hills. Now, he kind of liked it.

* * *

Monday started what was going to be a hectic week for Brian. The second wave of advertising for Sutton Brewery was launching and Brian was suitably stressed about the success of the new campaigns. He and the entirety of Kinnetik spent the day making final plans and confirming the various ads that would be coming out over the next four days. It was a hectic day and when it was done Brian wanted nothing more than to go home and let Justin ease the tension from his body.

When he got home from work that day though, he found Michael at the house, sitting and visiting with Justin and Lindsay while Gus and JR played with some matchbox cars on the coffee table. The scene was quite surreal. But when Justin stood to greet him with a wet, open-mouthed kiss, Brian joined in – retrieving a beer from the kitchen before he sat on the floor with the kids and half-listened to the conversation and played with the kids and the cars.

Michael left with JR about an hour later, after eliciting a promise from Brian and Justin to come over at the end of the week for dinner, when the next issue of Rage was shipped.

"That came for you earlier," Lindsay, who had just shooed Gus upstairs to get ready for bed, indicated to a large wood crate by the door. Brian had seen it when he'd come in, but with Michael there he hadn't looked too closely.

"This will interest both of you," Brian said as he moved towards the crate, Justin and Lindsay following behind. It was the painting of Justin's that he'd bought, finally delivered.

Retrieving a screw-driver from the garage, Brian pried open the lid and pulled out the packing materials. He couldn't wait to see the painting in person, even as he felt a little nervous about how Justin would react to finding out Brian had been the one to buy his painting.

"Brian," Justin's tone was cautious and Brian just smiled at him, nodding.

"You shit," Justin punched his arm, not hard, but not entirely playfully either.

"What?" Lindsay was watching them with a confused look on her face.

"He bought one of my paintings," Justin shook his head as Brian pulled the wrapped canvas from the box, shedding it of its protective layers.

"Is that a bad thing?" Lindsay asked as she moved closer. Brian could hear the excitement in her voice,

"No," Justin sighed, "I just don't want my friends to buy all my works. It's pitying."

"It's not pity. I wouldn't spend my money on your art if I didn't absolutely love it," Brian looked at Justin before he removed the last layer of wrapping.

"I bet I know which one this is, too," Justin shook his head again, a small smile playing on his lips.

Brian pulled the last layer of wrapping off revealing a good sized canvas that depicted a shadowy figure that was unmistakably Brian, even though no facial features were discernible, standing on a street corner at night, under a streetlamp.

"Holy shit," Lindsay gasped as she stared and Brian too was rendered speechless.

Everything about the painting was perfect. The use of color, the way the streetlight lit the figure, the angle of the perspective, the blurring in the background giving the impression of movement. The photograph the gallery owner had taken did not do it justice. It was a masterpiece and for the first time Brian truly questioned Justin's decision to leave New York. He was unquestionably talented – he could make a big name for himself if he'd only stick it out…

No. It was Justin's decision. Brian couldn't force him to go back.

"Sunshine," Brian held the painting at arm's length and stared, "this is -,"

"Awful?"

"Fuck you," Brian rolled his eyes and looked to Justin.

"It's…perfect."

"I agree. It is perfect," Lindsay echoed and the three of them simply stood there for several minutes staring at it and taking it all in. Not until Gus called out that he was ready for bed did anyone move.

Brian silently handed the canvas to Lindsay before he headed upstairs to put Gus to bed. He thought he heard Lindsay asking Justin something about technique as he went, and he smiled to himself. The lad really was a fucking genius.

Later, when they were in bed, Brian turned to Justin.

"I want you to promise me something," he started, feeling like a shit even saying anything but knowing he had too. It was the only way he'd feel okay about essentially holding Justin hostage and preventing him from furthering his career.

"Okay," Justin answered, sounding cautious.

"If you _ever _feel the need to pursue your art –if you want to go back to New York or go anywhere else – I want you to promise me you'll go. I need you to promise you won't deny yourself any opportunity because of me," Brian rolled to his side and stared into Justin's face.

"I'm not sure if I can make that promise," Justin said softly and Brian sighed.

"You have to," he repeated, wishing he could put into words the importance it held for him. Wishing he could express how desperately he wanted Justin to be happy, even more than he wanted Justin with him. If leaving would make Justin happier than staying, Brian would let him go in a second. It would hurt like a motherfucker, but he'd do it. He wouldn't expect anything less from himself. Mainly though, he still harbored a fear that Justin would resent him one day. That he'd look upon their life together as a dead-end trap and that was almost more painful to consider than possibly never seeing him again.

"Please," Brian whispered, the entreaty causing Justin to close his eyes with a soft sigh.

"Okay," he whispered back, opening his eyes, "I promise."

* * *

The following morning Brian was gone to work before anyone else in the house was out of bed. He lamented leaving Justin in bed, eyes thick with sleep and tucked deep under the covers, only his messy head of blonde hair peeking out.

It was an important day at Kinnetik, the first of many days of new ads running, most of them print ads in the local newspapers and news magazines for the various metropolitan areas that Sutton Brewery was marketing too. Without the HIV to divert his attention Brian was feeling anxious about the new run. He had full confidence in their brilliance; he wouldn't produce anything but top notch adverts. Still it was nerve-wracking and he didn't start to relax until the feedback started rolling in.

Thankfully, it was all positive. There were a few negative voices, there always were, but the majority of those who spoke about the new campaign said only positive things. They took note of the unusual techniques Brian had had his art team try out, and the color pallet that was very different from anything Kinnetik, or anyone else for that matter, was using. Brian was thrilled. He wanted nothing more than for Kinnetik to take charge – to become a leader in setting trends in advertising, not just following behind and copying what everyone else was already doing successfully. He thought maybe they were finally on their way to making that happen.

Brian didn't stay in the office all afternoon – he left around 4pm, anxious to get home. The release had been successful so there was no reason for him to stay late. He was glad, because ever since Justin had essentially moved in, Brian had been unable to keep his mind from drifting to think of him. He wondered, at least once an hour, what the other man was doing throughout the day. He wondered if he was drawing, or painting, or sleeping, or talking with Lindsay, or any of the other things he could possibly be doing. Brian wished he could be at the house, spending his time with him. So, when four o'clock rolled around, Brian bid his employees good evening, and left.

When Brian walked into the house he could immediately sense a tension in the air. The house was quiet, though Brian could hear the puppy barking out in the backyard.

Dropping his briefcase on the sofa as he passed through the TV room, Brian emerged out the back to find Lindsay and Gus on the lawn, throwing a yellow tennis ball at Sunny, who simply barked at it before chasing it. Justin was at the far end of the patio with an easel set up, painting. His expression was clouded and troubled, which Brian noticed immediately and which gave him pause to wonder and worry about what new roadblocks had been thrown in his path.

"Daddy!" Gus screamed, running towards Brian with a grin.

He ran full bore into Brian, wrapping his arms around his waist in a quick hug before he stepped back and laughed.

"We're trying to teach Sunny to play fetch," Gus pointed to the puppy who was running in a circle around the tennis ball, barking and nipping at it. "I don't think he understands."

"It doesn't appear so," Brian laughed, glancing over to see Justin looking at him with a blank expression. That was when Brian knew something had happened.

"You better keep trying," Brian said, "he'll only learn if you keep practicing with him."

Gus nodded and ran back over to where Lindsay was sitting. She said something to Gus and then the little boy ran towards the puppy, grabbing the tennis ball and throwing it back towards Lindsay. Sunny jumped in place a few times before he started ambling after the ball, which landed near Lindsay's chair.

Turning back towards Justin, Brian slowly approached.

"Hey," Brian greeted him, staying a few feet back so as to not intrude on his space. He also wasn't sure if Justin would want Brian to see what he was working on.

"Hey," Justin kept his eyes on his work, the brush in his hand thick with a dark blue paint that Justin kept sweeping across the canvas.

"How was your day?" Brian asked, attempting to be playful. When Justin raised his eyes to level a less than amused look at Brian, he knew he'd failed.

"I've had better," Justin answered, dipping his brush in the mug of dark water and rinsing it.

Brian loved to watch Justin paint. He'd only had the opportunity a few times, but it was fascinating to him. Watching the blonde create art, seemingly random strokes of his hand producing amazing images and works of beauty was just…well, it was erotic.

Justin smeared the paintbrush in a bright yellow and starting stabbing at the canvas with a bit more force than Brian thought was likely necessary.

"I met someone today," Justin said, his eyes still on his work as he pulled the brush away and tilted his head, "Jesse?"

Oh, fuck.

"Oh?" Brian said and though he felt anxious he thought he sounded rather unconcerned.

He really shouldn't be concerned. He'd done nothing wrong; not really. The fact that Lindsay's interruption the other day had prevented him from making what would likely have been one of the biggest mistakes of his life, not-withstanding. The point was nothing had happened. So why was Justin seemingly angry?

"He had some lovely things to say about you," Justin said, still focusing on his painting, and still refusing to look Brian in the eye.

"He congratulated me on the size of your cock, for one thing," Justin did look at Brian then, and it was obvious that the next words out of Brian's mouth had better be right, or Justin would be gone. For good.

Brian let the panic that rose in him take hold for just a few seconds before he shoved it aside. He'd done nothing for Justin to be angry about. He'd been the recipient of some not entirely unwelcome advances, and he'd resisted. Though begrudgingly. Still…that had to count for something, right?

"Nothing happened," Brian finally said to which Justin smiled, though there was no joy in it.

"Okay," Justin shook his head, his expression indicating he was waiting for a hell of a lot more of an explanation than that.

"I went to Woody's a few weeks ago and he cornered me in the bathroom. He propositioned me, stuck his hand down my pants, and then I left," Brian offered the cliff-notes version of what had happened. He was disheartened to see Justin didn't believe him.

"Did you fuck him? Or let him blow you?" Justin had put his brush back into the water and was now staring at Brian with his arms crossed.

"No," he answered plainly.

"Why not?" Justin shrugged, "He's fucking hot."

Brian considered the question, the meaning behind it, and what it was Justin was trying to get him to say.

"Because of you," Brian finally said. Justin's eyes widened slightly and Brian felt somewhat vindicated that he'd provided an answer Justin hadn't been expecting.

"Me?" Justin shook his head. "I don't believe you."

Brian sighed, glancing over his shoulder when he heard Gus let out a sharp shriek of laughter. He was on his back, in the grass, Sunny on top of him licking his face. Brian smiled, meeting Lindsay's somewhat concerned look before turning back to Justin.

"It was you. And it was the test results," Brian said, and Justin nodded in understanding. Brian knew what his next question would be.

"Would you have fucked him if you hadn't been waiting for your test results?"

Brian laughed bitterly before he let his head fall back, looking up into the bright blue sky. It was a gorgeous late-September day. It was too nice a day to be dealing with this bullshit.

"Honestly?" Brian returned his gaze to Justin and with a sigh shook his head. "I really don't know."

"This is important, Brian," Justin's expression transitioned from angry to worried and he moved from behind his easel to stand in front of Brian.

"We've been fucking without condoms now for days. There's no going back from that," Justin's eyes were pleading; his voice pleading; his expression pleading; his entire body pleading.

"I know," Brian lifted his hand and ran his thumb down the line of Justin's jaw. "I don't intend to go back from that. I intend for it to be you and I. And just you and I."

"Can I believe you?" Justin seemed unsure, and Brian felt incredible guilt that he'd ever given Justin any reason to doubt his word.

"Yes," Brian leaned down and kissed him lightly. "I can't promise I won't look, but I can promise you I won't touch. Or be touched. Unless it's you, of course."

Justin rolled his eyes with a smirk, and Brian rolled his lips into his mouth.

"So can I see?" Brian indicated towards the canvas and Justin just shrugged and stepped aside so Brian could move forward.

It was clearly a work in progress, but Brian could recognize it anyway. It was a starry sky as seen through a bedroom window. Arching an eyebrow Brian turned to Justin.

"I already love it," he smiled and when Justin laughed Brian knew everything was okay once again.

* * *

The remainder of the week was more of the same. Early mornings at Kinnetik, and early afternoons at home. The successive days of the campaign release were as successful as the first, and by Friday everyone was over the moon with how well the three different campaigns were being received. Not only had they released a second wave of ads for White Water Pale Ale, but they had also started a new campaign for a Stout beer, as well as a cider beer that hadn't done too well in Canada, but which Brown Sutton was convinced was right for the States.

Sam, who had been in town for the previous two weeks, had been around the Kinnetik offices off and on through the releases, though he and Brian didn't share many words outside of the meetings they were both present for.

That Friday afternoon Sam came into Brian's office just as he was getting ready to head home. It had been a roller-coaster ride of a week, starting out bumpy but seeming to end pretty solidly. He was looking forward to another weekend with Justin, and hoped maybe Lindsay would be willing stay home with Gus again Friday night and Saturday. Brian wanted to take Justin back out again, maybe Woody's or Babylon, but most importantly, to the loft.

Brian never thought it would come to it, but he was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable doing some of the things he liked and wanted to do to Justin, when Gus was asleep across the hall. The loft was the last "safe" place where Brian could let his sexual kink fly free, and a place he didn't have to worry about how loud or how boisterous he or Justin were. He was pretty sure Lindsay wouldn't mind if the Friday/Saturday thing became a routine, but still he was planning to get her some flowers and wine to butter her up before he asked.

"Headed out?" Sam came in then, as Brian was thinking about these things.

"Yes," he replied, turning off his computer and standing from his desk. "Got plans."

"With Justin?" Sam asked and Brian nodded.

"I'm glad you two worked your shit out," Sam smiled and Brian nodded.

"You and me both," he added, moving out from behind his desk and grabbing his briefcase as he moved towards the door where Sam stood.

"I'm headed back to Toronto tonight and I just wanted to say thanks for all the hard work," Sam held out his hand and Brian shook it.

"It's what I get paid for," he added.

"I also want to say again how glad I am for you, and for Justin. That you're both okay," Sam smiled and Brian nodded. He'd told Sam the news on the previous Friday about his results, and the following Monday he'd let him know Justin was also negative. The amount of relief Sam had expressed hadn't been lost on Brian, and a part of him still wondered if things between them had happened exactly as Sam had told him. He had seemed far more worried than Brian would have thought; but maybe that was just his nature. In any case it no longer mattered. Brian and Justin were negative, and Sam was once more returning to Toronto, and to Jake – or so Brian assumed; or so Brian hoped.

There was no need for Brian to think about him outside of work anymore.

* * *

Lindsay had been happy to stay home with Gus, and though thankful for the wine Brian brought her she also told him that it was not something he should feel guilty or bad about asking her. Gus was her son, she was his mother. Of course she would stay home with him. She did remind him though, that she would expect equal consideration in the future, and Brian agreed. He wasn't sure how soon, if ever, Lindsay would be going out and meeting people, but if she did and needed to spend a night or two out, Brian would happily stay home with his kid. That was the deal – and their roles as parents.

Instead of heading to Woody's, or Babylon, Brian and Justin had dinner with Michael and Ben. The most recent issue of Rage had been shipped out that morning, and the comic was expected at Mikey's store the following Monday. The issue, Justin explained to Brian as they drove back into Pittsburgh from the house in West Virginia, was a conclusion to the story-arc that involved Rage and the Shadow-Man and the latter's attempts to take over Gayopolis by hypnotizing the city's population and exposing them all to a powerful toxin that allowed him to leach their very life force, increasing his power and the threat he posed to the city. Justin refused to tell Brian how it was all resolved, but he was giddy to tell him that it was JT and Dr. Kurschner who saved both their lovers, and Gayopolis, from the clutches of the Shadow-Man.

After they'd had dinner and while Ben and Justin chatted about art and criticism and the downfall of both, Brian stepped into the kitchen to get another beer. He was surprised when he found Michael there, hovering just behind him.

"What," Brian opened the beer and took a swig as Michael glanced towards the table where their respective partners were deep in conversation.

"Spit it out, Mikey," Brian said softly. He knew what it was Michael wanted to ask, and he wouldn't begrudge his friend the right to know – since Brian had admitted his HIV exposure to him. But he also was going to make his friend say the words.

"Are you okay?" Michael said, his voice low. "I mean, I assume you are because Justin's here but…are you?"

"We're both fine," Brian pulled Michael to him, suddenly feeling quite grateful and thankful that even after all the shit between them, that Mikey had his back. That they were still friends; that he still cared enough to ask the important questions.

"Hey, hands off my husband!" Ben's cheery voice called out from the other side of the tall breakfast bar and Brian arched an eyebrow at him before releasing Michael. The two friends shared an amused look before returning to the table where, beneath the tabletop and from view of the Novotny-Bruckner's, Brian and Justin's hands found each other and gripped tight.

* * *

"So I think I should go back to New York as soon as possible. This weekend maybe," Justin was lying in bed and Brian was washing up in the bathroom.

They were back at the loft. After finishing dinner with Michael and Ben they had headed straight there, neither all that interested in going out but rather more interested in each other. Four times in a row, they were now taking a break.

"I need to get the rest of my stuff and I actually have one painting at the apartment that I kind of want to finish."

"Sure. But I'm coming with you," Brian stated, matter-of-factly, emerging from the bathroom.

"You don't have too. And you're busy. It'll only be a few days," Justin shook his head.

Brian crawled into the bed, moving to hover over Justin.

"I don't care. You're not going back there alone while that psychopath is still out there," he pressed a kiss to Justin's nose before nuzzling his face into the crook of Justin's neck.

"He was arrested," Justin murmured, his hands moving slowly up and down Brian's back.

Brian, who had thought he had been spent for the night, felt a stirring in his crotch and so he lowered his body, moving his hips slightly and rubbing his slowly hardening dick against Justin.

"That was days ago. He could be out now," Brian said, pressing his lips to Justin's skin, biting gently. "You're not going alone so shut your fucking mouth and kiss me."

* * *

**A/N: Thank you so much to those of you who have been commenting. I really appreciate all your thoughts! Hope this chapter satisifies! :D**


	20. Wonderful Life

Contrary to what everyone around him thought, Brian did have a tiny handful of good memories of his father. Good of course being relative because even the best memories were tainted by the influence of alcohol. This fact in and of itself made Brian's later use and abuse of alcohol somewhat surprising and ironic – he was not far from following in the footsteps of his dear old dad and may have, if not for the positive influences of Michael, Debbie and Vic.

The good memories though, such as they were, were also strictly limited to Brian's early childhood and preteen years and they all revolved around either bowling or baseball.

Jack and Joan Kinney called three places home through Brian's childhood. The first was Union, New Jersey; the second Bethlehem, Pennsylvania and the third and final place they settled down, Pittsburgh. Jack, a semi-functioning alcoholic for as long as Brian could recall, would manage to hold down a job for roughly five or so years before something would happen and they'd have to move. When they landed in Pittsburgh though, the blue-collar scene seemed to suit Jack and he found his niche. He found his group of "friends" and drinking buddies. Men that slowly over the years succumbed to various diseases brought on by their lifestyles; cirrhosis of the liver, lung cancer, emphysema, some even died driving drunk – and taking a few innocent lives with them. Eventually Jack also succumbed, despite his constant bragging about his excellent health; but not before he worked through to retirement at the same plant, in the same job, making his family miserable and unhappy the entire time.

The "good" memories didn't continue after the move to Pittsburgh. The last semi-positive one Brian could recall was when Jack took Brian and Michael bowling but after he drunkenly slurred at them, calling them fags, Brian stopped accepting his invitations to go bowling. The first few times he declined to tag along with his father it earned him a couple closed-fisted hits upside the head – but then Jack lost interest in trying and any sort of relationship they might have had decayed away and Brian began to spend almost all his free time with Michael at his house.

Still – as he and Justin rode in the hired Lincoln Town Car, headed towards the East Village, Brian couldn't help but be reminded of what was probably his earliest good memory of his father, and it was of a day they spent together in New York City.

Jack Kinney, a die-hard Yankee's fan, had taken a young Brian to his first baseball game just weeks before he lost his job and the family moved from Union, New Jersey to Bethlehem. It was the first and last time Jack took Brian to a baseball game, though for years afterwards Jack would coerce Brian into watching them on television with him. By the time Brian was twelve he had ceased watching because of any interest in the game itself, only continuing to feign interest in order to see the players in their tight pants. By the time they'd moved to Pittsburgh Jack had stopped asking Brian to watch the games with him and he started going out to the bars each afternoon or evening there was a game on.

Brian wasn't sure why his father stopped watching the games at home, but he could only imagine it had to do with getting away from Joan, who would harp on him for sitting around all day and consuming an entire case of beer on his own. He probably left to get away from Brian, who had stopped showing any interest in the games at all and had, on more than one occasion, made comments that should have tipped his dad off that he wasn't exactly all that interested in women. He probably left to get away from Claire, who would constantly pester their dad for any approving words or glances, finally dissolving into tears when she didn't get the attention she wanted and then Joan would start in on him and the cycle perpetuated… Brian didn't care. He was glad when his dad wasn't home because while his mother could be cruel in her own way, at least she didn't hit him.

But the game they'd attended that late fall day had been one of the few bonding moments Brian could remember having with his dad. Jack had bought Brian Cracker Jacks, hot dogs, Coca-cola, and even a bag of cotton candy. He'd answered Brian's questions and taken the time to explain the game. He'd even bought Brian a Yankee's jersey that he wore to school for three months before a group of older kids beat him up and stole it on his way home from school. Jack had been livid when that had happened – livid at Brian and his perceived "weakness".

For Brian, that afternoon at Yankee Stadium had been very nearly a perfect, magical day. He remembered being glad to be away from home where no one did anything but fight, and away from the harsh, judgmental eye of his mother. But on the bus ride home Jack had gotten into a drunken fist fight with another passenger and they had all been kicked off the bus, Jack and Brian several miles from their stop. When Brian, scared and upset at seeing his father punched and bleeding, had asked how they were going to get home he had received a heavy-handed smack to the head and a few choice words about "fucking using your damn legs and walking". When Brian started crying at the abrupt turn of events Jack proceeded to yell at him and call him names the entire walk home.

Brian had been six years old.

That was how most of Brian's "good" memories ended. With a drunken Jack attacking Brian for something he was perceived to have done, some unknown slight that had offended Jack's drunk sensibilities. So they were "good" memories – relatively.

Though it was on his mind, Brian didn't tell Justin about it. He no longer cared anything about baseball or any other sport – though he couldn't help but imagine how excited Gus might be to go to a baseball game and he made a mental note to talk to Lindsay about it when they got back.

Brian rode in silence, letting Justin regale him with tales of his time in the city – he was pointing out bars and clubs and restaurants. They even drove past the illustrious Victor's and Brian was immediately turned off by its garish exterior. Justin laughed when Brian screwed up his nose in disgust, assuring him that at night it looked a lot swankier. Brian didn't believe him, and really didn't care. All he cared about was that Justin didn't have to work in a place like that anymore, and that the fucker who had been stalking him was safely behind bars. And he still was, at least as of the day before.

Driving through the streets of New York listening to Justin go on and on about some of his favorite cafes and coffee shops, Brian felt the old desire rising up in him again – his desire to move to New York. He had long since quashed that dream – life and circumstances had worked against him in that regard and he was fairly stuck where he was. But it didn't stop him dreaming of eventually bringing Kinnetik to the Big Apple. Whether it was he running the office or not remained to be seen, but he would expand his business. Of that he was certain. He still wanted to conquer New York.

It would have to wait, though. He couldn't uproot Gus, and he wasn't sure how Lindsay would respond to the move either. Now that she was beginning to get comfortable, and she and Gus were building a good relationship with her parents. Of course he could always move by himself, leave Lindsay and Gus with the house...but the thought of leaving Gus behind after being his sole caretaker for seven months actually caused Brian physical pain. He couldn't, and wouldn't, leave Gus. Not for anything and not after all they'd been through since the accident. It was too late for that, now.

Brian nodded and smiled at the appropriate moments as Justin narrated their drive, even though he was mostly thinking about other things. When the car finally pulled up in front of the six-story red brick building Justin had called home for nine months, Brian grimaced. It wasn't ramshackle, per se, but it was certainly more run down than he'd imagined.

"What do you think," Justin laughed as they disembarked. The car driver began to unload their bags onto the sidewalk as Brian simply stood and stared, his mouth twisted in a grimace of disgust.

"I think this is atrocious," he replied.

Justin hit him lightly in the stomach before turning to retrieve some of their bags.

"Stop," Brian turned to face Justin, shaking his head. "Sorry, Sunshine, but I'm not staying here."

"Brian," Justin sighed.

"No," Brian turned to the driver who had the last bag in his hands, about to set it on the sidewalk.

"Put them back in," Brian indicated to the bags as he moved forward and pressed a $100 into the man's hands, "and wait for us."

"Whatever you say," the man shrugged and pocketing the cash, he proceeded to reload the bags into the trunk of the car.

"Let's go," Brian nodded to Justin.

It took them approximately two hours to pack up the rest of Justin's clothes and scattered art supplies.

The unfinished painting that was the impetus behind the trip to the city was one Justin had started just days before he'd left. It was, he's told Brian, the first time he'd taken his work outside of the studio. The first time he'd painted in public. He told Brian how he'd been exploring in Central Park one afternoon and had come upon Strawberry Fields. He knew about the site of course but had never seen it and while standing there he'd been struck by the tragedy of John Lennon's death. The following day he'd returned to the spot with an easel, a canvas, some paints, and he'd started working. It was two days later that his studio was trashed and he'd returned to Pittsburgh leaving the partially painted canvas abandoned and lingering. Now he was anxious to finish the painting. As he said to Brian, he couldn't stop thinking about it, and his hands actually ached to hold the brush and make the strokes.

The bags and canvas safely stowed in the trunk of the car, Justin went back up to do one last walk through and to get the last few things he was sure were scattered around the apartment. Brian laughed because if Justin lived here like he'd lived at the loft, then his things would and could be in every corner of every room – strewn about and marking his presence at every turn. Brian smiled at the blonde's retreating back as he made a call to his travel agent and after a brief conversation he hung up, waiting for Justin to come back down and for his agent to call back.

His refusal to stay at Justin's apartment was not only because it wasn't up to standards, but he also wanted some privacy. He didn't want to worry about making too much noise and disturbing Annette, or Amy, or whoever the fuck his roommate was. He also wanted Justin to be close to the park so he could paint and easily get himself and his things to and from the site.

It was perfectly timed. Brian phone rang just as Justin emerged from the building with a small cloth bag in hand. Brian answered, listened, smiled at Justin and earning a small, confused smile in return. He didn't say much, simply snapping the phone shut before opening the car door for Justin and instructing the driver to take them to The Plaza Hotel.

* * *

"This is too much," Justin kept saying, over and over as he wandered the rooms of the suite. Brian had been able to book The Royal Terrace Suite when there was a last minute cancellation. He had been lucky, and he knew it. Getting a suite, same-day, at the Plaza could be nearly impossible.

After being showed to their room, Brian had tipped the bellhop a significant amount and told him they would be fine to unpack their own bags – they didn't require the "Butler Service" to help – though Brian did request several bottles of wine, and a bottle of Chivas-Regal be stocked in the bar. The bellhop said it would be done right away. As he left he cast an obvious, judgmental stare at Justin and his several scruffy duffel bags. Brian felt an urge to kick him in ass, literally, but settled on giving the bellhop an obvious, judgmental stare of his own. Still – Justin needed real luggage and so Brian mentally noted that his first order of business would be to get him a nice luggage set.

"There's two floors?" Justin looked up the staircase before glancing back at Brian, his mouth agape.

"Seriously, this is too much," he said again, placing one foot on the bottom step.

"I want to be comfortable, and I want you to be comfortable. And there's no rush to finish. I want you to be completely contented with your finished product," Brian said as he crossed the room in a few long strides, pressing his body against Justin's back and wrapping his arms around the other man's waist. He lowered his nose to his hair and inhaled. He could get used to this. Hell, he was already used to this.

"What do you say we christen the bedroom?" Brian whispered, moving his head so his lips were pressed to Justin's ear. He felt the other man shiver slightly as he leaned back into Brian's embrace.

"I think that's a brilliant idea," Justin whispered back, twisting his head to meet Brian's lips. When they broke apart Brian nudged Justin up the stairs and they spent the rest of the afternoon and much of the evening alternately in the bed and the shower, only taking a break once to order some room service and to drink some of the alcohol that had magically appeared in the bar while they had been upstairs, busy.

* * *

Justin was up early the next morning – at least it was early according to Brian's standards, for a Sunday. Glancing at the bedside clock he groaned.

"Eight thirty? Are you kidding?"

Justin offered a laugh before he crawled across the bed to lie on top of Brian. Brian was still naked, and sporting a rather stiff morning hard-on, but he was disappointed to see Justin fully clothed and even wearing a jacket.

"It's a gorgeous morning and the light is perfect," Justin crooned as he kissed Brian's neck and jawline softly.

"But I need taken care of," Brian lifted his hips slightly to press his cock against Justin.

Justin sighed, and Brian heard his apology in it. Closing his eyes, Brian shook his head once.

"Go," he smiled before grasping the back of Justin's neck and giving him a proper good morning kiss. "I'll be there shortly with some coffee and food. You can't paint brilliantly on an empty stomach."

"I love you," Justin smiled and with a soft peck on the lips he rose and started for the door, shouldering a large, paint-stained bag and giving Brian one more brilliant smile over his shoulder.

Brian, grabbing his cock and going to work on alleviating his problem on his own, listened with a comfortable contentedness as Justin's footsteps echoed down the wood staircase. A few moments later he heard the almost inaudible click of the door to the suite closing.

Brian rose and moved to the shower where he knew he could take care of business more quickly, rushing through his morning routine to get ready. He was suddenly overcome with a desire to watch Justin paint. He'd rarely seen him work before – not for an extended amount of time – but the few times he had watched it had been fascinating. And erotic.

An hour later Brian found Justin settled under the colorful branches of a large American Elm. It was early October so while the trees were still boasting color, they were starting to dull and Brian noticed that leaves were beginning to fall quickly to the ground. Any little gust of air would send a shower of yellow and red and orange raining down.

Brian held two coffees and bag of croissants. He wasn't sure if he should disturb Justin though. The look of concentration on his face gave Brian the impression that he wouldn't stop to eat or drink – hell, he wasn't sure he would stop to fuck, even.

Deciding that Justin needed sustenance more than to be left alone, Brian approached him, observing how a small red leaf had landed and tangled in his hair. The contrast of the red on blonde was arousing and Brian wordlessly set the coffee carrier on the ground before reaching out and tenderly pulling the leaf from his hair. Justin turned to him then, a smile on his lips and his eyes bright with excitement.

He looked how Brian felt inside – full of joy, and happiness, and loving life.

"Leaf," Brian smirked before he leaned in and gave Justin a soft kiss.

"I have coffee," Brian leaned down and grabbed one of the two cups, offering it to Justin.

"And croissants," he smiled.

Justin accepted the coffee, taking a sip before putting his paintbrush into a small cup of water that was already black from use.

"Been hard at work I see," Brian examined the canvas. There was more to the scene, more background filled in and a piece of the Imagine mosaic in the concrete was peeking in the corner of the painting. There was still a gaping hole in the middle though, and Brian wondered what Justin had planned for that portion.

The painting was a kaleidoscope of red and yellow and orange, with bright flashes of blue in the sky and a mixture of grays and blacks and blues for the pathways. It was looking amazing and Brian felt a compulsion to tell Justin he wanted it when it was done but he wasn't sure the other man would, at the moment, appreciate the gesture. But Brian knew he wanted the painting. It was just like when he'd heard the description of the painting Justin had done of him under the streetlamp. He'd known he'd wanted that one, too. And this once, even though it was incomplete, was calling to him. He was feeling a visceral reaction to it and it wasn't even done yet.

"Still have a ways to go," Justin shrugged as he grabbed Brian's elbow and lead him towards one of the many benches nearby.

They ate the warm, fresh croissants in silence, sitting side by side, their knees brushing and their shoulders pressing into each other. Brian was so comfortable and at ease he was beginning to get scared. Things couldn't be this good and this easy forever, right?

Justin soon resumed his painting, and so Brian pulled out some work from his briefcase. He had a bit of Kinnetik business to do before Monday that thankfully didn't require an internet connection. Not that he got much done, the allure of watching Justin paint too much of a distraction.

Strawberry Fields Memorial was a quiet corner of the park and aside from the John Lennon fans that trickled in and out, posing over the Imagine tile mosaic, there were few people. As such, Brian noticed when someone new entered into his field of view.

Though he knew the guy who had been following Justin, and who had trashed his studio, was still in jail (Brian had called again that morning to make sure) Brian couldn't help but feel his suspicions rise when a man would enter the memorial garden area and linger a little too long or pay a little too much attention to Justin. But every time the man would eventually leave, or meet up with a group of friends or a woman, and Brian would relax once again. There were no shortage of creeps in the city, and though the guy who had given Justin so many problems was likely out of the picture for good, that didn't mean Justin was safe and Brian, no matter how bored, or stiff, or warm, or cold he might get, would stay and watch. He would make sure Justin wasn't hurt again – by anyone.

By early afternoon Brian was beginning to feel restless. He'd already finished the work he was able to do without internet, and he'd gone out into the park to get him and Justin some lunch from the first food cart he could find. Still – the day was winding down and Brian wanted a change of scenery; not that it wasn't beautiful in the garden, but he was tired of the parade of people coming through. Tired of watching hetero PDA's and tired of giggling and sometimes crying groups of Lennon fangirls. Brian wanted to take Justin back to their suite and fuck him over and over. Staring at him all day, with dappled sunlight coloring his pale skin and making his eyes pop bright and blue had only given Brian one of the worst cases of blue balls he could remember in a long while.

Finally, around 4 in the afternoon, Justin started packing up his stuff.

Brian, who had been wandering the immediate area in an attempt to work out the restlessness in his legs, practically sprinted towards the younger man.

"Done for the day then?" Brian said, wishing he could help pack up but not knowing what to do. So he just stood and watched.

"You don't have to sit here all day you know," Justin smiled at him, "you should go shopping or something. There are a ton of high-end stores on Fifth Avenue. Go get some new suits or something."

Brian just smiled.

"You don't have to babysit me," Justin added.

"I'm not-," Brian started but when Justin raised his eyebrows at him Brian just shrugged.

"I like to watch you work," Brian said instead. It wasn't a lie. He did like to watch him work. He supposed he could tell Justin his real reasons for wanting to stay nearby, but what good would it do? It'd likely make Justin feel like Brian didn't think he was capable of taking care of himself, which he was. Brian didn't doubt that but that's how Justin would probably see it. He also didn't want to give Justin reason to be suspicious of everyone around him. It had taken months for him to be comfortable to be alone in crowds again after the bashing. There was no need to dredge up those old fears and anxieties just because Brian was feeling his own kind of fear and anxiety.

"Mmmmmhmmmm," Justin hummed, looking at Brian like he knew he was lying, but he was okay with it. Brian sighed inwardly. The little shit probably knew exactly what Brian was doing.

"The faster you pack up, the faster we can get back to the room where I can fuck your brains out," Brian switched gears, growling in a low voice in Justin's ear as he gently wrapped his brushes and tucked them into the bag.

Justin flushed at that, and Brian offered a small chuckle. It worked though. Justin hastily shoved his paints into the bag, folded the small table into a manageable rectangle and crammed that into the bag as well. He was a bit more careful with the canvas, but it was obvious he was hurrying.

They barely made it through the door before Brian carefully took the canvas and shoulder bag from Justin, leaning the painting against the wall and dropping the bag on the floor and then he was wrapping his arms around the other man and lifting him at the waist as he pressed their mouths together and moving down the short corridor into the suite. They made it to the living room before Justin was wriggling in Brian's arms. Setting him down, the blonde promptly stripped off all his clothes and not a few minutes later he was lying on his back on the sofa while Brian hovered over him, thrusting and grunting into him.

Justin's legs were squeezed tight around Brian's waist as he lifted his hips to meet Brian's thrusts. Brian felt like he couldn't get in deep enough, and with Justin panting and begging him to go "harder" and "deeper" Brian wasn't so sure he would be able to hold on much longer.

In the end they came at the same time, which they almost always did, even when Brian thought he wouldn't be able to wait. It would seem that after nearly five years of sex they had learned how to read each other so well that there was no need to pace and time things. They simply knew.

Brian pulled Justin up from the sofa after they'd come, and they kissed for several long minutes before they went up the stairs to the en suite shower where they fucked again – hard and fast – and Justin shot his load all over the glass door of the shower, crying out loudly as he did. Justin wasn't usually too vocal, but when he was it drove Brian crazy.

When they emerged from the shower, satiated for each other, for the moment, Brian suggested they go out to dinner. Before he'd left that morning he'd asked the Concierge to leave him a list of the top five best restaurants within walking distance, as well as the names and addresses of the best gay clubs in the area (if any).

He'd barely noticed there'd been a printout sitting on the dining table down in the living room and he thought that might be list he had requested. Leaving Justin for a moment to dress, he ran downstairs and retrieved it.

He was about to treat Justin to the night of his life, out on the town. He had the means to do it, so why the hell shouldn't he give Justin the best of everything?

* * *

Justin didn't wake as early the following morning. They had been out late – returning to the hotel sometime after 4 am. They were both a little drunk and of course frisky so Brian led Justin out onto the terrace attached to their suite and they fucked on the cool stones. Brian let Justin ride him and when he woke the next morning, near 10am, his back ached not only from being pressed against the hard surface but because there were also a few small scratches from writhing on the rough stones. It had been worth it, though. There was nothing like the sensation of Justin on top of him, and no greater view than to watch the younger man above him, rhythmically thrusting his hips. Though he would never admit it to Justin and though he didn't let him do it all that often, he preferred that position over most of the others. He supposed that was why he did it so rarely. To preserve the joy and eroticism it brought to him.

They showered together that morning, and Justin applied some antibacterial cream to the scratches on Brian's back. Then he surprised Brian by sinking to his knees and spreading Brian's cheeks, rimming him with gusto while one hand fondled his balls and another stroked his cock. Brain let himself fall over the sink vanity, spreading his legs to give Justin access and succumbing to the moment. Like getting fucked, Brian rarely let Justin rim him, and before he stopped tricking he never let anyone else do it, either. He'd accept blow-jobs and maybe, _maybe_ a finger up his ass, but never anyone's tongue and never anyone's dick.

Justin was the exception. Always was – for so many things.

Brian came loudly, before he sank to his knees, panting and letting Justin run his hands all over his chest. His hands were smearing his cum all over, but also just feeling him – the gentle pressure of his touch comforting and bringing Brian back to the present. He could let Justin touch him forever.

After another quick shower, they walked to Central Park together stopping for coffee and croissants before winding their way through the park to Strawberry Fields. Justin had told Brian he was just about done and might need one more day after this one before the painting would be complete. He still refused to tell Brian what the empty space in the center was for. But his refusal came with a teasing smirk, so Brian had a sense it might have something to do with him. Or with them.

Settling on the same bench he'd occupied the day before, Brian opened the newspaper he'd grabbed from the Concierge at the hotel and started to catch up on World and Local news.

The small memorial section of Central Park was busier than the day before. Brian guessed because it was only a few more days to John Lennon's birthday – the influx of visitors seemed to all be focused on the Imagine mosaic in the concrete. There was already a healthy monument of fresh flowers adorning it – more than what had been there when they'd left the day before. Brian resigned himself to there being a lot more people coming through and he really did hope Justin was close to being finished.

Brian was just turning the page of the newspaper after noting the presence of a Sutton Brewery White Water Pale Ale ad, when movement caught his eye. Justin, who had been busy working last time Brian had looked up, was now talking to a strange man. He was facing away so Brian couldn't see his expression but it didn't matter. A vice grip of fear seized him and he tossed his paper to the side and stood, crossing the short distance very quickly.

Striding up to Justin's side, ready to defend him if need be, he was caught off-guard to hear the light-hearted sound of Justin's laugh.

"Hey," Brian put his arm around Justin's shoulder and pressed a light kiss to his temple.

"Hello," the stranger said with a pleasant smile. He was slightly older, with graying hair at his temples and deep crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

"Brian, this is Heath Veritate*," Justin grinned up at Brian as he spoke.

Heath Veritate…Brian knew he'd heard that name before. But where?

"The Veritate Gallery*," Justin said softly, helping Brian along.

_Oh shit_.

The Veritate Gallery was an art gallery that first opened its doors in the late 90's. Heath Veritate had previously been a curator at the Museum of Modern Art in New York, but had left to start his own gallery when he'd run into frustrations with getting any of the artists he'd recommended actually into shows at the MOMA. He and his successful gallery had been featured in the same issue of Art Forum as Justin.

"Good to meet you," Brian straightened up just slightly and reached out his right hand, "Brian Kinney."

"Pleasure," Heath smiled as he shook Brian's hand.

"Justin, please let me know what you decide. I would love to have you. Have a pleasant afternoon," Heath turned back to the blonde and with a warm smile he nodded to them both and left.

"Decide? Have you as what? What's going on?" Brian asked, unable to stop the sinking feeling in his chest. When Justin turned to him with a wide grin Brian felt the ground beneath him give way and he was falling.

"I think I've finally been discovered," Justin said with a laugh before he grabbed the sides of Brian's face and pressed their lips together.

* * *

Indeed he had been discovered. And not just by some out of town art critic who would write a fawning review and then leave for Europe soon after, but by a real artist, the owner of one of the most prestigious art galleries in the city. An art gallery that has had four artists in the last two years go on to have their pieces shown at the MOMA in the Emerging Artists showcase*.

Fuck.

This was Justin's dream come true, and Brian instinctually knew this would not end well for him. He could already feel the preemptive pain of the inevitable separation and he hated himself for the resentment he was feeling for Justin finally getting some highly deserved and earned attention. Brian was committed to Justin's happiness, even at the expense of his own if necessary, but this was too much. Things had just settled down with them again and now this was happening? In what world would the fates be so cruel? Brian wanted to laugh. It was just his luck. He and Justin had never been good with their timing.

Justin's cheeks were flushed and there was a definite excitement in his voice as he told Brian about the offer to show some of his works in the winter show at the gallery. It was an excitement Brian hadn't heard or seen in him since they had been planning their doomed wedding. As Justin gushed about his plans to visit the gallery in the coming days Brian couldn't help but begin to mentally prepare for a trip home, alone.

Later that day - after the perfect afternoon light had faded and Justin was done painting, they took the unfinished canvas back to the hotel room and Justin suggested they walk in the park together. It was a pleasant, Indian summer day; far warmer than it should be for early October. Perfect for a stroll through Central Park as apparently many other people also thought. The paths were thick with groups of people; come couples, some walking alone. Not that Justin noticed any of it. He was flying high, so damn excited about the prospect of being part of a well known, well respected, prestigious art show it would seem he hadn't noticed how Brian's mood had shifted. Or if he had noticed, he wasn't saying anything.

Brian, for his part, was trying to be as supportive as he could but a part of him was slowly dying. After everything they'd gone through in the last six months, both together and apart, Brian couldn't believe it was all happening again; the cycle was repeating itself. He had to wonder if there would ever be a moment that he and Justin would finally be together. Would they ever be at the same place in their lives at the same time?

It was funny, really. After all the changes he'd made in his life, all the introspection he'd done, all the growing and maturing he'd fought tooth and nail only later to succumb too, he couldn't believe that once again Justin would be pulled from his life. Snatched away just as they were settling down, getting comfortable with each other; committed. Brian was happy for him of course. And certainly proud that he was finally gaining the recognition that should have come a lot sooner and in a much easier way, but he had also finally come to terms with growing up; to building a life with his very non-traditional family. With Justin.

"I can't believe this," Justin laughed for the tenth time since they'd dropped the canvas back at the hotel.

Brian smiled and nodded.

"Can you believe this?" Justin asked and Brian shrugged.

"Yeah," he simply said. There must have been something in his tone of voice or in his expression because for the first time since he'd been approached by Heath, Justin's joyful grin faltered.

"What's wrong," he said, and Brian could hear a hint of fear in his voice.

"Nothing," Brian smiled but it felt false and he knew Justin didn't believe its sincerity either.

"Brian," he reached a hand out, placing it on Brian's forearm and forcing him to stop, "what's wrong?"

"It's just-," Brian faltered, unsure of how to continue. He may be growing up as it were, committing himself emotionally and physically to Justin, but that didn't mean it was any easier for him to talk about his feelings or admit his neuroses out loud – and especially not to Justin. The last thing he wanted to do was dampen the excitement of this opportunity. He fucking deserved it and Brian would be the biggest asshole there ever was for bringing him down just because he was insecure and feeling like he was losing Justin all over again.

"We'll have to find you a safer place to stay," Brian finally said, swallowing his fears and leaving unspoken the real reason he wasn't as excited as Justin; namely that this felt like another goodbye. And not a 'maybe I'll see you again soon' goodbye, but a 'Justin will be a permanent New Yorker' goodbye.

All Justin had needed since he'd first arrived in the city was one chance and finally now, after ten months, this art show could be it. One chance meeting in an out of the way corner of Central Park had changed everything. If there was ever anything to make Brian reconsider his views on fate and destiny it was this. This was the start of everything for Justin. And more than likely the start of the end for them. Fucking again.

"Okay…why?" Justin said slowly, his confused expression seeming to indicate he didn't quite recognize things the same way Brian was.

"Because you'll have to stay," Brian responded, surprised Justin didn't realize the ramifications of this development. Surprised he didn't understand that what he was being offered meant a lot more than just getting his art out there. It meant being present and showing his face and…living in New York.

"No I won't have to stay," Justin cocked his head slightly and stared at Brian for a moment.

"I'm not staying," Justin reiterated as he shook his head.

Brian screwed up his face with frustration. Was he now going to throw this opportunity away? Just like that?

"You have to," Brian responded. "How do you expect to make yourself the next big thing in the art world while you live in the armpit of Pennsylvania? Or I should say, West Virginia."

Justin was quiet for a moment, his eyes searching Brian's face. The scrutiny was uncomfortable, and Brian felt the urge to erect his walls; to dust off that mask of nonchalance that he'd put away long ago – at least when it came to Justin. But he didn't. This was important and they needed to understand each other and be on the same page regarding this art show and Justin's future career.

"No, I don't have to," Justin said finally. "I can paint just as easily in Pittsburgh," Justin threaded his arm through Brian's and started walking again.

"It will probably require a lot of traveling but I don't care. I'm not staying here, not without you. Fuck, I don't want to stay here. I want to be with you. And with Gus. I don't care how much harder that might make things because if it's meant to happen, it will. I just know I'm not leaving you again. No matter what you say, no matter what it may or may not mean for my art. I'm not giving up on us again. You are worth more to me than any fame, or fortune, or success."

"Justin," Brian sighed. It felt too much like before – like a sacrifice he shouldn't be making and no matter how hard he tried to accept Justin's decision, it still felt wrong.

"No. Stop," Justin came to a stop again, turning and looking up at Brian. "Fame and success are fleeting. Who knows how long any of it will last? Maybe I'll make it big with this show, or maybe I'll flop. Maybe I'll sustain a career for three decades or maybe I'll last one year. I have no questions about you. You are constant."

Brian opened his mouth to speak but Justin shook his head.

"I know it probably sounds trite after the last six months but it's true. Even at your worst I never doubted your love, and I never will. I feel secure in it. I flat-out refuse to give that up," Justin stared hard at Brian.

"I know you haven't made me any promises or commitments and really, I don't want them. We work best when we just let life happen. We don't need to promise each other our lives because we don't know what will happen. What I do know is that you won't willingly leave me. Maybe you don't know it," Justin grinned and Brian had to roll his eyes, "but I know it. And that's enough. So drop it, okay? I'm not staying here."

Brian sighed and pulled Justin into a tight embrace. He was right. Brian had no plans to live his life with anyone other than Justin. He'd let him go if he ever wanted to leave, but he would keep him close and safe until then. Committed? Yeah – he supposed he really was. Promises? Well, they tried that once and it backfired so for now, nothing promised – at least not out loud. Brian had long ago promised himself to make sure Justin was happy, and safe, and taken care of. All Brian really wanted was Justin happy and with him. If handling things this way was how that result was achieved, Brian couldn't argue it. It was Justin's life after all, he did have the final say. Still…

"How will you ever pay me back the thousands you own me for your aborted education, though?" Brian smirked, filing away the remaining doubts he felt into the dark recesses of his head and locking the door on them. He just wanted to see Justin smile and laugh and be happy.

Releasing his hold on Justin they resumed walking – Justin's arm finding its way back through Brian's again.

"I guess we'll have to figure out something," he laughed softly before leaning his head on Brian's shoulder for a brief moment.

He still wasn't sure Justin wasn't being entirely too romantic, and not thinking clearly, but if Brian had learned one thing in the last year or so it was not to try and manipulate or control those around him. Especially Justin. He was an adult and he could make his own decisions. Brian couldn't spend his time worrying what the reasons for those decisions were because it would make him crazy, just as it would if he attempted to manipulate Justin into doing what he thought was best. They'd been down that road more than once, and Brian didn't have the energy to travel it again.

"I guess we will," Brian said softly, pulling his arm from Justin's hold and reaching across his shoulders to pull the younger man closer to him.

* * *

**_* denotes stuff I made up completely in my own head. _**


	21. Silent Lucidity

Brian and Justin returned to Britin late Wednesday after spending four full days in New York City. Gus and Lindsay were already in bed when the two men finally got back to the house so they quietly crept upstairs, leaving most of their bags piled at the door, before collapsing into bed and falling promptly asleep. They were both too exhausted to even think about messing around or having sex.

The next morning Brian awoke to Gus standing at his bedside, a grin on his face and a travel mug that undoubtedly contained coffee in his hands.

"Hi Daddy!" he said brightly, bouncing slightly on his toes as he grinning at Brian.

Brian smiled at his son while he tried to figure out why he looked so different. Something had changed…

"Sonny boy! You lost a tooth!" Brian, who would never have believed he'd feel such excitement for something as mundane as his kid losing at tooth, shot up in bed, swinging his legs over the side and ruffling Gus's hair. He was thankful he'd decided not to sleep naked as the blankets, caught and twisted around Justin's still sleeping form, were pulled from his body.

"It came out yesterday!" Gus stuck his tongue through the gaping hole in the front of his mouth. The first of his two front teeth, gone.

"Mommy gave me coffee to bring you," Gus held out the travel mug and Brian took it gratefully. Glancing at the bedside clock he saw it was almost 7:30 in the morning, which meant Gus was due at school in 45 minutes.

"Thanks bud, why don't you go get dressed so mommy can take you to school," Brian swatted lightly at Gus's rear as he trotted from the room.

Brian sipped the coffee from the mug before setting it on his nightstand and rolling back onto the bed, nuzzling his face into the mess of blonde hair splayed out on the pillow, forming a sort of halo around the soft features of the man lying next to him. Justin was still out like a light and not even Brian's weight pressing down on him seemed to stir him in the slightest. Trailing kisses from his head, down his temple to his jaw and across to his lips, Brian sighed and climbed from bed, pulling on a pair of sweatpants over his boxer-briefs and going to see if Gus needed any help dressing for school.

Fifteen minutes later he and Gus were downstairs and Brian was telling them Lindsay about some of the high points from their trip to the city. The area by the front door was still piled high with bags, almost all of it Justin's. Brian had bought the other man a complete set of matching luggage from Louis Vuitton and after it had been delivered to their hotel room, they had repacked Justin's things from the duffels to the suitcases. Brian had wanted to burn the duffel bags but Justin stopped him, certain the hotel fire alarms would go off and they'd get arrested, or something. So Brian settled for shredding them with scissors and knives. All he knew was he never wanted to see another large, black duffel bag ever again.

Brian didn't elaborate much on their days in the city, he thought Justin might like to tell Lindsay himself about the Heath Veritate Gallery development. So Brian kept his report limited to talking about Central Park and Strawberry Fields, and how even though they'd been in the middle of the huge city it had actually been very relaxing.

A few minutes after Lindsay left to take Gus to school, Justin stumbled down the stairs. He still looked exhausted, but also contented. He'd finished the painting, or most of it anyway, in New York. He had told Brian there were a few last minute touches he needed to make, some detail work to do, and then he'd show it to him.

Brian still hadn't seen it; not since the day in the park when Heath had approached. Justin had hidden it from Brian's view after that day, continuing to work on it from the terrace of their suite at the hotel. Brian respected Justin's wishes and didn't try to sneak a peek, but he was growing ever more curious as time went on.

"Are you going to work today?" Justin asked with a large yawn as he poured himself a cup of coffee and joined Brian at the table. He moved his chair as close to Brian as he could and sat so his back was resting against Brian's right side.

Brian twisted his body slightly to make it more comfortable for the other man, then wrapped his right arm around Justin's torso, holding him close and using his other hand to turn the pages of the newspaper spread out on the table in front of him. Apparently while he had been gone, Gus and Lindsay had trained Sunny to fetch the paper. Brian was greatly amused at that development and was no longer convinced the dog was a complete loss as far as being trained.

"I don't think so. I need to make some calls but after that I think I'll take the day off," Brian replied, leaning his cheek on the top of Justin's head. "I'm not ready to return to reality – though I imagine Cynthia and Ted are about to form a coup and take over the company."

Justin laughed. The weight of him against Brian's chest was both comfortable and safe.

"Will you sit for me later?" Justin asked after a long stretch of silence. Brian heard him sip his coffee.

"Sit for you?"

"So I can paint you," Justin clarified and Brian smiled.

"Anything you want," he said softly, feeling Justin's hand grab his arm and squeeze gently.

It was only a few minutes later that Lindsay returned, rolling into the kitchen and flashing what looked like a knowing grin at them.

"Are you two the cutest," she teased, laughing when Brian flipped her off.

"How was New York?" she immediately asked, rolling up to the table after getting herself a cup of coffee.

Justin sat up then, and Brian lamented the loss of his weight and his heat. He turned his head to look at Brian questioningly and Brian just shook his head. It was Justin's news, he hadn't said a word.

"It's your news to tell," Brian said as he stood and went to refill his mug. He stood in the kitchen, watching his two favorite blondes and listening as Justin regaled the tale of his random meeting with Heath Veritate, the invitation he'd extended to Justin for his winter show, and the subsequent visit to the gallery. Lindsay was appropriately excited and asked all the right questions – all except one. Brian noticed the distinct lack of her inquiry into where Justin would be living, but he also knew that would be the first question she would spring on Brian when next they were alone.

"This is wonderful news!" she gushed, grinning at Brian as if to seek his agreement.

"Yeah, it is," he smiled and he saw a brief look of doubt cross her face before it settled once more into a wide smile.

"We should celebrate," she said, moving towards the small desk where she picked up a pen and paper and started making a list.

"Nothing's happened yet," Justin laughed, standing from the table and moving to stand next to Brian, elbowing him lightly in the stomach. When Brian looked down at him, his expression was beseeching.

Rolling his eyes, Brian sighed.

"Linds," he dumped the remnants of his coffee in the sink, "let's save the celebration for after the show. I don't think Justin wants everyone to know about this just yet."

"Why not? It's wonderful news! It should be shared! Everyone will want-," Lindsay gushed, but stopped herself when she finally met Brian's stern expression.

"Just…," he offered her a small smile, "not yet, okay?"

"Okay," she nodded and Brian watched her eyes flicker between he and Justin. She looked nervous.

"I'm going to go shower and then work on the canvas," Justin said softly, pressed his lips to the spot where Brian's jaw met his ear. Before he pulled away he whispered softly, "Thank you."

Brian swatted at Justin's ass as the he grinned and left the kitchen, leaving Brian alone with Lindsay once again.

"What's wrong?" Lindsay rolled closer to Brian, her brow furrowed deeply with concern.

"He just doesn't want everyone to know just yet," Brian stared at Lindsay, "he doesn't want to answer a bunch of questions about moving back to New York, and he doesn't want to have to explain himself a million times after he tells everyone that he's not going back."

"He's not going back?" Lindsay asked, her eyes widening in surprise.

"No," Brian answered softly, watching her closely and trying to gauge how she would react next. He watched her face as she got over the shock. Her expression relaxed and her mouth formed a small smile as she raised her eyes to meet Brian's gaze.

"It won't matter. He'll make it anyway. He's got more talent than anyone I've seen in a long time," she laughed softly, "And I'm not the only one to think so. Heath Veritate is a tough man to impress. I've only met him once and it was a long time ago, but he has a very specific taste in art and if Justin managed to capture his attention then there's nothing he can't do. The world is his oyster, so to speak. This is nothing but amazing!"

Brian nodded and offered Lindsay a small smile, "I agree."

* * *

A few hours later, after Brian had made some business calls, he found himself sitting stone still in one of the large armchairs in the little studio that had served as an art therapy room for Gus and was now Justin's base of operations.

Brian, forced to sit as still as he could, was already formulating preliminary plans for a new studio for his resident artist. He knew exactly where it would go, and he knew exactly what it would look like. Now it was simply a matter of figuring out to build it without the little twat knowing.

Justin had his canvas up on an easel, a paint brush in his hand, but to Brian it seemed he spent more time staring at Brian then actually making any brush strokes.

"Are we about done," Brian said evenly through a clenched jaw. His back was getting stiff and he had to piss.

"Nearly," Justin said absently as he suddenly attacked the canvas with vigorous strokes and dabs.

"You've never needed me to sit for you to paint me before," Brian teased and Justin just smiled at him. _This must be something new, something different_, Brian thought.

Brian heard Lindsay wheel into the room but he couldn't see her, Justin's easel was blocking his view.

"Holy shit Justin," she said and Brian watched as Justin spun around in surprise.

"Shit," he said breathlessly, "I didn't hear you."

"Justin this is…," Lindsay rolled further into the room and Brian could now see the bottom half of her chair, "this is exquisite."

"You think so?" he sounded doubtful and Brian suppressed a laugh.

"Yes," she breathed, "God yes."

"What I want to know is when I get to see it," Brian groused, an itch on his chin forcing him to end his statuesque performance.

"Soon," Justin laughed and Brian let out a loud, exasperated sigh.

"Seriously, are we done?" he said a few moments later, his urge to pee suddenly overpowering him. "I gotta piss like a racehorse."

"Christ," Justin laughed again, "just go!"

Brian smirked and cocked his eyebrow at the blonde before he ran out of the room, ignoring the fact that Justin had shielded the painting from Brian's view as he passed. Brian had some idea of what the painting might be of, but even still he was growing anxious to see it for himself.

When Brian returned to the studio the easel was in the corner and the canvas was covered by a cloth. Justin was sitting in the armchair Brian had just vacated, Lindsay in front of him in her wheelchair.

"You should have seen him, flirting with all the waitstaff," Justin laughed, "even the straight ones."

Shit. The little twat was telling Lindsay about the private party Heath Veritate had invited them too.

It was the day after Heath had come across them in the park. When Justin had finished painting for the day they'd decided to go check out the Veritate Gallery and had taken a taxi over. Justin had gone on and on about the layout of the gallery, the state of the art lighting, not to mention the art already on exhibit. He kept exclaiming to Brian that he couldn't believe his stuff would soon be on these very walls.

Brian could believe it. He always had believed it. He told Justin as much and earned a long, tender kiss for his words.

That was when Heath had found them and invited them to return later that evening. He was having a private party for one of his artists who had just been accepted into the MOMA. With a smile he'd handed Justin and Brian each a small black card with only a white sliver in the center, like a crescent moon. It was their invitation, and without it, they wouldn't be able to get in.

So Brian had taken Justin out for dinner, and then to Armani where they each got a new suit for the occasion. Justin had attempted to refuse Brian buying it for him, but Brian had insisted and eventually Justin gave in. Brian had no qualms about spending money on Justin – he had a very strong feeling the blonde would soon be paying his own way, and maybe even buying Brian a few things here and there.

The party was for a young female artist that Brian had no doubts was fucking Heath on the side. It was obvious in the way he looked at her, and the way he placed his hand at the small of her back as if to protect her. She was very young while Heath was not and it made Brian wonder – fleetingly – if he and Justin looked so oddly mismatched when they were together. Not that Brian was old – and he certainly wasn't as old as Heath, a man well into his late-forties. Still – he wondered.

That was when Heath saw them and promptly stole Justin away, introducing him around to all the other artists there and singing praises about his talent. Brian followed behind them for a little while but quickly grew bored when no one was the least bit interested in him; not even when he was introduced as Justin's partner did he get more than a brief nod or hello and then the eyes of whoever were glossing over him and focusing on Justin. It was as it should be, though, and Brian didn't mind. He wandered away, letting himself examine more of the pieces that were on display, and happily taking glass after glass of champagne from the passing waiters. Soon, Brian began to notice that two specific waiters were paying him a lot of attention, and when Brian met their gazes as they circled him they both would smile and kind of sway their hips a little too much. Brian let them flirt; hell, he even flirted back. He let his fingers graze their hips, he let them touch his ass as they passed by with trays of drinks and hors d'ouevres. It was only when Brian caught Justin staring at him with a unusual look on his face that he realized how inappropriate he was being; and how he was disrespecting Justin in front of his peers.

"It wasn't like I would have done anything with them," Brian said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. As if he hadn't spent all his teens and twenties as well as the early part of his thirties fucking everyone who showed an even passing interest. As if there was no history to substantiate Justin's slight concerns.

"Right," Lindsay said, mockingly.

Brian perched on the arm of the chair and started playing with Justin's hair.

"I wouldn't have," he repeated, more softly and with more care. Justin knew why he wouldn't…maybe before he would have, but not now. Things were so different now. So incredibly different.

Justin smiled up at him and replied softly, "I know."

* * *

Justin offered to pick Gus up from school. He had to get a few art supplies in town, so he took Brian's car and once more, Brian and Lindsay were left alone.

"What's going on with you two?"

Brian was sprawled across the armchair recently vacated by Justin, his legs hanging over one armrest and his head resting on the opposite one.

"Nothing," he answered.

"Bullshit! Something _is_ going on," Lindsay smacked Brian's thigh. "Are you two engaged again?"

"Fuck," Brian laughed a loud belly-laugh. "No."

"Why is that funny?"

"It's not," Brian sat up so his lower back was against the armrest and so he could look Lindsay in the eye. "I love Justin. I do. But marriage? I'm still not sure that'll ever be something I'll want to do."

"But you were going to before?" Lindsay responded and Brian shrugged.

"Yeah," he said, "And at the time I wanted too but that was then, and things are different now. Justin and I don't need some false hetero ceremony to know that we're committed to each other. It means nothing in reality and would only serve to ease the minds of the likes of you and Deb," Brian reached out and lightly slapped Lindsay's shoulder and she offered a soft laugh.

"There are other ways we can, and have, committed to each other," Brian added softly. He would never tell a soul that he and Justin were no longer using condoms in bed. He would never dare to think that anyone had any right to know that particular intimate detail. That was for them alone. But he did want Lindsay to know things were different this time.

Lindsay was staring at him, a smile on her face as she slowly shook her head from side to side.

"What?" Brian asked, feeling some discomfort under her scrutiny.

"I never thought I'd see this day," she replied and Brian could see her eyes shining.

"Fuck, no crying," he titled his head to the side and twisting his face into a mask of distaste.

"Shut up," she smacked his thigh again, "I'm just happy for you is all."

Shit. Brian knew now what this really was. Sure, Lindsay might be happy for him – certainly she was happy for him – but she was also still alone and while the accident felt like ages ago to him, Mel's death was still fresh for her, and certainly still hanging over her.

"Lindsay-," Brian swung his legs to the floor and sat forward, taking his friend's hands in his.

"It's okay," she smiled, but Brian didn't believe her sincerity at all. "I'm okay."

"Wendy," he changed tactics, using his pet name and his heart broke as her face screwed up under the emotion coursing through her. To her credit, she didn't cry though. She fought through it and after many long minutes offered a hesitant smile.

"I'm okay, Peter," she repeated, gently pulling her hands from his and turning she rolled out of the room.

Brian watched her go, torn. She wasn't okay. He could see it. But Brian couldn't force her to talk to him and so all he could do was hope she was talking to someone, and getting some help from somewhere because it was very apparent she hadn't fully dealt with Mel's death yet. She was barely hanging on and Brian had no idea how to help.

* * *

The following day Brian returned to work at Kinnetik, finding his desk stacked high with mail and his assistant and CFO with stacks of contracts and paperwork requiring his signature. Neither Cynthia nor Ted were all that happy with Brian.

He didn't blame them – he'd been taking a lot of time off the last couple months, since the White Water Pale Ale launch. But Brian wasn't worried. He trusted his employees to keep the ship sailing – even if he was unavailable for a day, or two, or several…

Brian believed that; he really did. But he also knew he was walking a fine line. Taking things a little too casual, playing a bit too fast and loose with his time and his attention to his company.

Kinnetik was coming up on its three year anniversary and while the company had become far more successful than Brian had dreamed (thanks in no small part to Remson Pharmaceuticals, Brown Athletics, and his new Sutton Brewery account), it was still not where he wanted it to be. For it to reach the heights Brian dreamed of – a satellite office in New York City for one thing – he needed to put much more focus back on the business. He thought it'd be easier to do, now that the HIV scare was over, now that things with Justin were settled, now that Gus was doing better than Brian could ever have imagined seven months ago.

Now it was time for Brian to put some of his focus back on his work, on making great advertising and on convincing the world it couldn't live without "product xyz". They were entering the "peak" season for advertising. The Thanksgiving/Christmas push. Granted, many of Brian's clients weren't affected as much by the seasonality but the few that were, were very important. Brian made it a point to call Leo Brown and check in, and he made sure to call Brown Sutton as well. He wanted to be sure he was giving due attention to his two biggest clients.

Though he'd been out of the office for several days prior, Brian still left early – or at least early relative to the schedule his staff was used to him keeping. He was out the door and on his way home at 4:30 in the afternoon. Justin had called him not quite an hour earlier to tell him that he had to return to New York and take care of some business with Heath with regards to the upcoming show in December. Heath had told Justin he'd only have to be in the city for the weekend, so he was once again packing his bags to fly back to New York the next day.

Brian – feeling an unwelcome sort of panic in his chest – was intent to get home and spend the evening with Justin, and with Gus and Linds.

As Brian pulled in he saw Jesse leaving out the other end of the U-shaped driveway. Brian had forgotten that it was one of Lindsay's PT days, and he sincerely hoped Jesse hadn't done something to piss Justin off, again.

He should have known better.

When Brian entered the house, depositing his briefcase by the door and hanging his jacket in the closet at the base of the stairs, Brian moved through the house in search of Justin. If Jesse had just left that meant Lindsay would be showering, and Gus, who was enrolled in a new after school program on Tuesdays and Thursdays so Lindsay could get her PT done, was not home. But where was Justin?

Brian walked through the TV room, which was empty, to peer into the art studio but it, too, was empty. Moving towards the kitchen, Brian pulled a bottle of water from the fridge, intending to head upstairs in search of Justin when he saw Sunny run wildly past though the large windows in the breakfast nook that overlooked the pool patio and backyard.

Immediately Brian grew irritated. The one thing he'd asked of Gus when he'd given him the puppy was to make sure the dog was locked up in the garage when he was at school. Brian was making a note to inform Lindsay she needed to pay closer attention when he saw Justin, his expression betraying troubled thoughts, trotting after the dog.

Chewing on his bottom lip for a moment, Brian took a long swig of water before he went out to the back to see what was wrong with Sunshine now.

"That guy," Justin shook his head, his jaw set as he chucked the tennis ball as hard as he could. They both watched as Sunny ran after it. He was getting better at bringing the ball back and Brian thought maybe in another few weeks he might have figured out the whole gist of playing fetch.

"Relax," Brian rolled his lips into his mouth to keep from laughing, "he's harmless."

"Fuck harmless. I don't like him," Justin growled. Sunny trotted back to them wagging his tail and leaving a trail of drool across the stone patio.

"He's making himself all too comfortable here and I fucking don't like it," Justin spat as he threw the ball once again, grunting with the effort.

"You know, watching you be all, athletic, is giving me a raging boner," Brian nuzzled his lips to Justin's head, sticking out his tongue and running it along the edge of the other man's ear. He could hear Justin's breath catch in his throat as he offered a soft whine.

"Stop," he panted, pressing his palms to Brian's chest but not really putting much effort into pushing him away.

Brian gently bit Justin's earlobe before he did take a step back.

"I'm serious. That guy is getting far too familiar with us, and I don't like how he assumes such ownership over coming and going," Justin added and Brian sighed, watching as Sunny decided to run circles in the browning grass with the tennis ball in his mouth, rather than bring the ball back to Justin.

Justin was upset, and Brian could understand why.

Justin had spent much of the morning sitting in the kitchen with Lindsay talking about New York and the December show. He had been asking Lindsay her advice on what kinds of pieces he should focus on when Jesse had come in. Brian had given the physical therapist a key simply because it seemed easier at the time. So he'd let himself in and apparently, according to Justin, had eavesdropped on his conversation with Lindsay. Justin didn't learn this until after the PT session though. When Jesse had finished working out with Lindsay and was on his way out he'd stopped to chat with Justin, who was taking a break from painting to get a snack in the kitchen. As Justin explained it to Brian, Jesse had decided to take it upon himself to help himself to a peek at Justin's unfinished work in the studio. He then proceeded to tell Justin he thought he was a great painter, and he congratulated him on his show. Brian thought maybe there was more said that Justin wasn't telling him – but the point was Justin was fuming that not only did Jesse listen on his private conversation, but he looked at something that was not his to touch, or ever meant for him to see.

"I just feel violated knowing he's even looked at it," Justin groused.

"It's alright, Sunshine," Brian ran his hand through Justin's hair, resting it at the nape of his neck and gently squeezing and massaging.

"It's not okay, though," Justin sighed. They'd left Sunny to do what he would with the tennis ball and had move to the patio table. "I wanted you to be the first to see it."

"It's done?" Brian perked up, excited he would finally get to see this mysterious painting.

"Yes," Justin sighed.

"Hey," Brian shook the other man gently, "stop. I'll talk to him. I'll let him know that under no uncertain terms is he to enter that studio again, or any room that isn't the weight room or the kitchen. Okay?"

Justin stared at Brian with a morose expression before he nodded.

"Now show me this fucking masterpiece because I've been dying to see it."

Brian put Sunny back into the garage, then followed Justin to the makeshift studio where the easel with the covered canvas sat in the middle of the room. Brian felt a wave of anxiety wash over him. He was suddenly afraid – what if he didn't like it?

He wasn't sure it was possible; how could he not love any of Justin's works? Still – he'd built it up in his head and now he wasn't sure how the real thing could measure up.

"Okay," Justin turned and stood next to the easel, his fingers on the cloth and his eyes on Brian's face. "Here it is."

* * *

It was the day of Gus's monthly appointment with Marty, and on the way to the appointment Brian took Justin to the airport. He was only going to be gone for two, maybe three days, but it felt like an interminable amount of time anyway. Gus, who was being taken to the appt by Lindsay, had cried when Justin had said goodbye to him at breakfast. He didn't seem to understand that Justin would be back in a few days – all he saw was Justin leaving them. Brian wondered what kind of a session he'd have with Marty after the emotional morning.

Justin had gone with Brian to Kinnetik, his portfolio in hand. He needed to make some high quality prints of the paintings still in his possession and Brian had happily offered him use of Kinnetik's resources to do so. In addition to the prints, Justin was traveling to New York with a few sketches of some other ideas he'd had. The one thing Brian had told Justin as he'd been putting together his portfolio was that the Central Park painting was not for sale. For anyone. Ever. It was Brian's. Justin had laughed, telling Brian he'd never intended to sell it anyway, but he wanted to show it – and he thought it might be a stipulation from Heath for the show. After all it had been that painting that had caught his eye in the first place.

When Justin had unveiled the painting, Brian had gone breathless, and speechless, and he might have lost the ability to even form coherent thoughts for a moment, too. It was a perfect capture of their two days at Strawberry Fields. The trees were painted thick in hues of orange and red and yellow; the sky was a bright but subdued blue that didn't take away from the warm glow of the trees. The paths, the benches, the fences were all as one would recognize them in that part of the park. Even the "Imagine" mosaic was there – not in detail, but it was easily recognizable. He couldn't imagine how anyone who might have ever seen that part of Central Park wouldn't recognize it immediately.

The painting was impressionistic in style, like the others Justin had done before but there was also a lot of detail to the bark on the trees, to the leaves, to the figures that were the focal point.

Two figures standing beneath overarching tree branches, two figures surrounded by cascading leaves of all colors, two figures intertwined in each other's arms, mouths pressed together and hands in hair. It was them – one blonde, one brunet. It was them at any moment, or at every moment. It was so simple; it was two men so clearly in love.

Brian wondered if it was because he was so close to the art that he saw what he saw, but he had his doubts. Justin was fucking talented and this painting seemed to ooze emotion. It seemed as if all the pain and suffering and heartbreak they had faced and overcome were in the painted embrace, in the painted kiss.

Brian saw it all, he felt it all. He relived it all; Prom; Ethan; Stockwell; the Pink Posse; Cancer; Los Angeles; the Bombing; the Wedding that never happened; New York…all of it.

Brian had stared at the canvas for what felt like hours but what was surely only minutes, before he wordlessly closed the doors to the studio and he and Justin had fucked hard and with an intensity that was entirely new to both of them.

There was no way Brian would let that painting out of his sight. It was his. He'd allow it to be shown, but he doubted many would see all there was to see in it. Most people wouldn't know how to see what was there and that was what made it so fucking genius.

"Got everything?" Brian asked. They were stopped at the passenger drop-off at the airport.

"Yeah," Justin grinned and Brian barked a laugh.

"Get the fuck out then," he teased and after a long kiss goodbye, Justin climbed from the car and disappeared into the terminal.

"Knock 'em dead, Sunshine," Brian said softly, watching the doors Justin had disappeared through long after he had faded from view. It wasn't until the Pittsburgh PD officer directing traffic came down the sidewalk and waved him along that he pulled out and headed towards Marty's office and Gus's appointment.

* * *

The first night of Justin's absence Brian slept through the night, though fitfully. He couldn't quite get comfortable being alone in his bed. It was odd; Justin had only been at Britin for just about a month yet the amount that Brian realized he relied on the other man's presence was disproportionately greater.

Brian and Lindsay had planned a full weekend with Gus – intending to distract the little boy from missing Justin. Brian hadn't realized how much it would affect him, though Marty had told Brian the previous day not to worry. Gus was still working through his abandonment issues but as soon as Justin returned and Gus learned that people did come back, he'd be less emotional the next time and eventually it wouldn't be as much of an ordeal. Brian hoped he was right because it was fucking hard as hell to watch Gus go through that roller coaster of emotion.

Saturday they spent at the zoo. It was mid-October, but still warm enough to enjoy the out of doors. Afterwards, they had burgers and lemon bars at the Diner. Deb wasn't working and Brian was thankful because he wasn't sure he could prevent Justin's opportunity from slipping from his lips.

Gus fell happily into bed that night, boasting to Brian that his second front tooth was loose and ready to fall out before he promptly fell asleep.

Brian retreated to his own bedroom, anxiously dialing Justin on his cell before he'd even closed Gus's bedroom door. He was fucking horny as shit, and desperate to hear the other man's voice. All day he'd been anxious and uneasy about Justin being in New York alone. Why it was different now for him than when he'd gone before he didn't know – other than there hadn't been a crazy stalker following him before. But that psycho was still locked up, so Brian wasn't worried about that…he was just…fuck…he was missing Justin.

Justin answered right away and Brian breathed a sigh of relief. He'd put the blonde up in the Plaza again – ignoring all of his protestations. He wanted him safe, and secure, and wouldn't accept anything less than the security the nice hotel afforded. When Justin still resisted, Brian had used a word he'd rarely said before; "Please". That had silenced all of Justin's arguments.

Justin's day had consisted of being carted all over Manhattan to so many galleries he'd lost count. Heath had showed him what they were up against, both he as a gallery owner and Justin as an artist. Then they'd spent the afternoon and evening discussing how best to show Justin's paintings. What kind of framing, and lighting, and how best to place them. Justin told Brian that Heath was glad he was coming with a few pieces that would be unavailable to purchase. He said nothing makes an artist more in demand than one who has pieces the public cannot buy. But he also told Justin he should have at least two or three more paintings that would be available to purchase, or else he could suffer the opposite fate and never be known because no one but his boyfriend bought his works. Brian had laughed at that, but he could see Heath's point. He promised not to abscond with any more of Justin's work if they could just fucking have phone sex already…Justin had laughed, and agreed.

* * *

_He can't get to him. He can't move any faster and he can't seem to get any closer. He tries harder but nothing happens. Nothing changes. He's still just out of reach, just far enough away that he can do nothing to stop what's coming. He knows what's coming because he's relived it so many times and even though he knows it isn't real, it is also so very real. _

"_Justin!" he yells and then the blonde is turning his head and then the sound. The fucking God awful sound that echoes louder and louder instead of quieter and quieter._

_He moves his mouth to yell for help, to scream, but nothing comes out. _

_Chris Hobbs laughs evilly and standing over Justin's still body he spits on him._

_A blinding fury rises in him and he opens his mouth and yells as loud as he can, trying to do anything to get Chris's attention off of Justin. Because what comes next is worse than anything that happened in real life. And this isn't real life. He knows that – he keeps trying to tell himself that – but he won't listen and he feels his stomach turn and the bile crawl up his throat as Chris raises the bat over his head, hands gripping it so tightly his knuckles are white. _

_Turning to look at him, Chris grins and then he's swinging the bat down, pummeling the body that is already hurt and bleeding on the ground._

"_STOP!" Brian screams, unable to move forward, or backward, or do anything other than watch as Chris Hobbs beats Justin over and over and over…_

There's someone shaking him, and Brian – the covers already twisted in his legs and half on the floor – shoots straight up in bed. He's sweating and his throat hurts.

"Daddy?"

Brian starts at the sound of Gus's tiny, hesitant and frightened voice.

"You had a nightmare," Gus said, his big brown eyes staring at Brian and an expression of concern on his face.

"Yeah, I guess I did," Brian took a deep breath and felt a chill roll through him. He was covered in sweat and his shorts were uncomfortably sticky.

"Brian?" Lindsay's voice carried upstairs and he could hear the concern in her tone too.

Fuck, he must have really been yelling.

"It's okay, Sonny boy," Brian tried to smile as he got out of bed and moved to the balcony that overlooked the formal sitting room that they never really used.

Lindsay was sitting up in her wheelchair her hands gripping the armrests like she was about launch herself from the chair and fly upstairs.

"What is going on! Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just a bad dream," he waved to her, moving to go back to his room, "go back to bed."

"Brian!" her voice was panicked and Brian sighed, turning back to the balcony.

"I'm fine, Linds," he said more emphatically. "Promise."

She still looked doubtful, but nodded and slowly rolled back out of view. Brian ran his hands through his hair, noticing how wet and matted it was. Fuck – he hadn't had that particular nightmare for years. He still occasionally dreamed about the bashing, but this particularly brutal version hadn't haunted him since the days after the attack.

When Brian got back to his bedroom he was surprised to find Gus, and much to his chagrin Sunny too, in his bed.

"What're you doing, Sonny boy?" he asked, bemused but also eyeballing the puppy distastefully. Ah well. His sheets could use a good launder anyway...

"Sunny and I are gonna keep the nightmares away," Gus smiled up at Brian.

"You are, huh?" Brian sat on the bed, happy to feel that the wetness in the sheets had evaporated.

Gus, curled up beneath the blankets, grinned at Brian, "Yep!"

Five minutes later Gus and Sunny were both out and Brian was left staring up at the ceiling, afraid to close his eyes.

* * *

"Gus is anxious for you to get back," Brian was sitting on the couch with the aforementioned little boy and Lindsay. Gus had a large bowl of popcorn on his lap and the movie they had been watching, Madagascar, was paused on the television. Brian could hardly believe he was spending an evening sitting around watching an animated movie. He only hoped Justin would be back sooner rather than later.

"Fuck," Justin sighed.

"What is it," Brian said as casually as he could, but he saw Lindsay raise her eyebrows in question.

"Heath wants me to stay one more day," Justin sighed. "He wants to introduce me to a few managers in the hopes that after they see my work in the show they'll want to represent me."

"Well that's good news," Brian said and Justin sighed again.

"Yeah, I just hate being away from you guys. I miss you, and I miss Gus. Hell, I even miss Lindsay!"

Brian barked laughter and Gus smiled up at him. He'd lost his second front tooth that morning at breakfast when Sunny, rather rambunctiously, had leapt up on Gus's lap and rammed his head into Gus's mouth knocking the tooth free. Gus had been surprised and caught off guard, crying from the shock of it. When Lindsay mentioned another visit from the tooth fairy he calmed down and asked Brian if the tooth fairy would leave the money at the breakfast table like last time. Brian had met Lindsay's gaze then, fighting hard to suppress a laugh as he shrugged and admitted he didn't really know.

"We miss you too," Brian replied.

"I wanna talk to him, can I daddy?" Gus reached out his hand and Brian nodded.

"Here, Gus wants to say hi," Brian passed the phone to Gus then, and met Lindsay's bemused expression before looking down at his son.

"Hi Justin! Guess what I lost another tooth! Well, it was Sunny's fault really," Gus said and the puppy, lying on the floor at their feet, perked his ears up at the mention of his name.

"When are you coming back?" Gus said, stuffing his mouth with popcorn and chewing as Brian heard the tones of Justin's voice in the phone.

"Okay," Gus replied to whatever Justin said, smiling and nodding.

"I've been taking care of daddy like you said," Gus added. "He had a nightmare and Sunny and I made it all better, right daddy?"

Brian nodded and held his hand out for the phone.

"Okay, I have to go, bye Justin," Gus handed the phone back to Brian and with an apologetic smile to Lindsay he stood and left the room. He didn't want to continue his conversation in front of them.

"Hey," Brian said as he stepped outside, the chill in the air definitive of the fall season descending on them. He wished he had a sweater, or a jacket, or something.

"I told Gus I would be one more day," Justin replied with a laugh, "he seemed unconcerned."

"Yeah," Brian sighed, craving a cigarette. He'd thrown out his entire stash, though, and now he wished he'd kept at least one pack around for emergencies. He knew what was coming and he was dreading talking about it. Gus had meant well but Brian would have been okay with Justin never knowing he still had the occasional nightmare…

"So, a nightmare?" Justin asked and Brian sighed. There it was.

"Yeah," he shrugged and stared up at the night sky. He'd never really taken the time to notice how many more stars were visible from the house in West Virginia than ever were from Pittsburgh and the loft.

"What about," Justin prompted.

"You know what about," Brian responded and he heard Justin sigh.

"Which one?" Justin asked and Brian hated that he was making Justin think about this and talk about this.

After the bashing and when Justin was living with Brian they would take turns waking each other with their nightmares; they'd take turns comforting and taking care of each other afterwards. Of course, Brian's nightmares were fewer and further between, but no less horrifying. When Justin finally convinced Brian to share the events of his nightmares Brian wasn't sure he didn't regret asking. Because the one he'd had the night before, the really bad one, had sent Justin rushing to the bathroom where he retched into the toilet when Brian had told him about it.

Brian had felt like a total shit for doing that to him, but Justin had insisted it was okay. He'd insisted that they both needed to heal and they both needed to talk about it. But Brian didn't mention it again. When that particular nightmare recurred, which it did several more times, Brian would lie. He'd say it was the other one that would come to him frequently, the one with all the blood and the dull sound of the impact and that was bad enough.

But this time he couldn't lie to Justin.

"It was the one," Brian saw a star shoot across the sky as he spoke and felt a flash of hope, "the bad one."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Brian exhaled and closed his eyes.

"Just get back here safely, please," Brian said softly, his voice barely a whisper.

"I will. And I love you too," Justin replied.

* * *

Justin's return fell in the middle of the day, Tuesday. And just so happened to coincide with Lindsay's PT, and a very important meeting Brian had with Leo Brown, who had flown to Pittsburgh specifically to discuss the winter campaign and how best to market to the holiday shoppers. As such his mother picked him up from the airport and Brian, when his meeting was finally over, went over to Jennifer's to get him.

Jennifer and Molly had been semi-frequent visitors to Britin ever since Molly had watched Gus, but typically Brian wasn't home when they visited so he actually hadn't seen Jennifer for awhile. He was eager to get Justin home and fuck his brains out, but when Jennifer asked them to stay for dinner Brian graciously accepted.

He had to resign himself to play footsy under the table with Justin.

They didn't stay late, as Brian knew Gus was incredibly anxious to see Justin and so they left soon after eating. Justin talked pretty much non-stop all the way to the house. He was so excited about the show, and the new ideas for paintings he'd had while in the city. He even expressed an interest in trying to do a bit more detail work. He'd shied away from it so far simply because it exhausted his hand and he couldn't work as fast, which frustrated him. But the little bit of detail work he'd done on the painting of Strawberry Fields had inspired him, and he told Brian he was a lot more steady than he'd thought.

Brian listened quietly, occasionally casting sidelong glances at Justin as he spoke, noting the way the streetlights on the highway cast a warm yellow glow on him, making his pale skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes even more ethereal then they already were. If Brian were an artist, he might have found his inspiration on that drive. But he wasn't, so he simply took a mental picture and filed it away with the thousands of others that he had taken over the years.

Gus was out the door and pulling Justin's car door open before Brian had even taken his keys out of the ignition.

"Hey bud," Justin lifted Gus in an embrace, throwing a look over his shoulder at Brian.

"He missed you," Brian smiled, shutting his car door and moving around to the trunk to get Justin's bag before he moved to stand next to the other man.

"We all missed you," he added in a low voice, pressing a kiss to his temple.

"My tooth is gone, see!" Gus wouldn't let Justin put him down, so they walked back into the house with Gus grinning madly in Justin's face.

"Gus! You can walk!" Lindsay's voice carried from the arched doorway that led to the kitchen. Brian shut the front door behind them and nodded his agreement.

"Yeah, Sonny boy," reaching out, Brian pulled Gus from Justin's arms and set him on the floor. "Go put on your pajamas."

"Welcome back," Lindsay rolled towards them, smiling.

"Thanks," Justin sighed. "It feels good to be out of the city. Don't get me wrong, it's great to be there but sometimes I feel like I can't breathe. Like I'm going to suffocate under all the concrete and people and bustling."

Lindsay smiled and nodded, smirking at them.

"I can't wait to hear more, but you can tell me in the morning. I'm sure you have plans," she winked and turned her chair, headed towards the short hallway that led to her suite of rooms.

"Goodnight boys!" She called over her shoulder.

* * *

The next few weeks were exhausting for Brian. Things were ramping up like mad at Kinnetik as many of his clients wanted his personal attention and touch to their holiday campaigns. Brian spent his days immersed in his work while back at the house Justin spent his days painting. It worked out fairly well – Justin could paint while Brian was at the office then at night, they could spend time together, and with Gus, who was exhibiting some clingy behavior like he had with Brian right after the accident. Brian wasn't sure what that meant, but he decided to trust Marty and assume it was just the coming and going he and Justin were doing that was making the little boy more nervous than usual.

As the month progressed, Lindsay started asking Brian about going trick or treating with Gus in the neighborhood. She told him Gus had been asking her incessantly about it, and Brian begrudgingly agreed to go with them. Justin, however, would not be able to go.

Heath Veritate had called him and was in need of him to travel back to New York at the end of the month and so Justin was going to miss spending Halloween with them. Gus had been heartbroken, and he'd had a breakdown the likes of which Brian hadn't seen since before he'd started therapy.

Justin had been concerned, of course, but Brian had assured him it was just part of his healing process and over time the news of Justin leaving all the time would eventually be less impactful. Brian did his best to convince Justin it was alright, and he almost believed it himself but he could empathize with Gus; he didn't want Justin to leave either, but he'd also not seen the other man so excited about his work since….well…ever? And Brian could never begrudge him those feelings.

A couple days before Justin's flight back to New York, he and Brian met the guys at Woody's for some drinks and pool. They hadn't all gotten together since Gus's birthday party and even though they'd likely all see each other at Deb's for Thanksgiving the following month, Brian was feeling a bit nostalgic for the old days. So, when Ted had told him he was meeting Blake, Emmett and Drew, and Michael and Ben for a few drinks, Brian had called Justin and had him come into town.

They'd naturally congregated around a pool table as per usual, and the four pairs of men formed two teams, Blake, Brian and Michael against Emmett, Justin, and Ben. Ted and Drew both declined to play – and while Brian couldn't speak to Drew's capabilities with a pool cue he knew Ted was a dismal pool player – worse than Emmett even.

As they were, the teams were fairly evenly matched – Michael and Emmett each the weakest links, while Blake and Justin could hold their own. But the game was really between Brian and Ben, both more than capable at clearing a table if they played correctly. The first game Brian's team lost; the second, they won, and the third they never finished.

Ben was racking up the balls for the third game when Emmett sidled over to Brian and leaned in close.

"Don't look now, but there's a dreamy muscleman checking you out at the bar," he said in a low voice. Justin, Ted and Michael were all huddled together laughing about something Rage-related. Blake was talking with Ben about potentially writing a book chronicling his drug addiction and recovery and was looking for advice, and Drew was at the bar getting another round of drinks for everyone.

Brian had his back to the bar; he had been watching Ben rack the balls for the next game. After Emmett's report though, he turned, curious. He wished he hadn't been.

He saw Drew, a tray of beers in hand, and just behind him was Jesse. When Brian saw him, he smiled in what Brian assumed was supposed to be a seductive way before raising his beer in a toast. Brian just stared back at him blankly before turning back to the pool table.

"Do you know him?" Emmett whispered conspiratorially and Brian shrugged.

"He's Lindsay's Physical Therapist," Brian offered. Emmett leaned against the pool table so he could stare out at the bar area.

"He's quite the looker," he answered and Brian huffed a laugh.

"Well he is," Emmett said, slightly off-put.

"Who is what?" Drew came up to them with beers, leaning into Emmett and kissing his cheek.

"Nothing," Brian said brusquely, taking the proffered beer and moving to the other end of the pool table to see what Justin, Michael and Ted were talking about.

Brian supposed he should be used to this. Going out and getting attention. It's not like anything has changed. Ted may have told him he was no longer the "stud" of Liberty Avenue, but that didn't mean he garnered any less attention – at least from what he could tell by his few times out. He may be older but he was no less attractive – if he did say so himself. Of course he should expect attention, like he always had – he just didn't want to think about what attention from this particular guy meant. He had been telling the truth when he'd told Justin he had no real interest or desire to trick anymore – but that didn't mean seeing an attractive guy wasn't still a temptation, that he didn't still have a physical reaction to the sight of a hot body. But appreciating all the male beauty that adorned Liberty Avenue was different than fucking any or all of them in the backroom at Babylon, or in a dark alley, or the bathroom of Woody's, or in a bathhouse…like he would have, without question, just months ago. That appeal was mostly gone – but the desire to feel the smooth, toned muscular body of an attractive man beneath him? Yeah…Brian didn't think that would ever dissipate, not for him.

Thankfully – he had Justin.

But he would only be around for a few more days. Then he'd be back to New York for another long weekend. Fuck, it sucked. It wasn't as if Brian couldn't go a few days without getting off – he managed to go almost six months with nothing but his own hand (and one beautifully timed blowjob from Justin), he could certainly go a weekend. And if he spent his time with Gus and Lindsay then he'd have no time to think about it…still…

"What are you three gabbing about," Brian draped his arm across Justin's shoulders and took a long pull of his beer.

"A new villain for Rage," Michael grinned.

"Yeah, it was actually Ted's idea," Justin laughed and Ted just shook his head and shrugged in that self-deprecating way he had.

"Take the credit, Theodore, Jesus," Brian rolled his eyes. Drew came up then, delivering fresh beers for the others.

"So? Someone gonna tell me?" Brian added when no one said anything.

"Nope," Michael grinned and Justin and Ted shared a knowing look and a laugh.

"What do you mean, nope?" Brian let his arm fall from Justin's shoulders and he narrowed his eyes at the three of them. They all looked so smug and pleased with themselves it was actually pissing Brian off.

"You'll have to wait and see like everyone else, at least this time," Michael laughed and Brian arched his brow before shrugging.

"Fuck you all," he said, offering a sickly sweet smile that made Ted and Michael laugh. Justin though, when Brian looked at Justin he could see the younger man knew there was a bit more behind his annoyance than being kept out of the loop.

"You okay?" Justin asked, pressing his hand to Brian's chest.

"Fine. I gotta take a leak," Brian stepped away from the trio, setting his beer on the edge of the pool table and promising Ben, who was ready to start their third game of pool, he'd be back quickly.

The bathroom was empty at the bar, and after Brian relieved himself he stood in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection trying to figure out why he was so upset. He didn't understand why it bothered him so much that Justin, Michael and Ted (of all people! Ted!) now shared some secret story idea for Rage. Probably because Brian had been involved in Rage since the beginning – he was the fucking man himself! He felt an odd ownership of the comic even though he'd contributed nothing to it save his face and body. Still – the fact that they wouldn't share anything with him was bugging the crap out of him.

The door to the bathroom opened then and Brian shrugged away his jealousy, turning to exit and leave whoever to do whatever. But the person who had entered the bathroom was blocking Brian's path to the door…and it was Jesse.

"Jesus, not you again," Brian sighed with frustration. Jesse just smiled sweetly, as if that would be enough.

"Do you mind getting the fuck out of my way?" Brian moved to go around the other man but he just moved to block Brian's path.

"It's not going to happen. So just stop. It's becoming rather pathetic," Brian said flatly, sticking his face as close to Jesse's as he dared, hoping the other man wouldn't try to kiss him.

"I know Justin's heading out of town again," Jesse said, ignoring Brian's dig as he moved closer, causing Brian to take matching steps backward until he was pressed up against the paper towel dispenser.

"Yeah, about that. Stop eavesdropping on conversations that don't involve you, and stay the fuck out of Justin's studio," Brian groused. "I pay you to help Lindsay, not to creep around my house. So unless it's the weight room or the kitchen, stay the fuck out."

Jesse smiled.

"If you need any company while he's gone…," Jesse moved closer still, his hand cupping Brian's dick through his jeans and fuck if Brian didn't immediately feel himself responding to the touch. He could see in Jesse's face that he could feel him hardening in his hand.

"Did you hear what I just said?" Brian stared at the other man, wondering if he'd inherited his own 'stalker' and he regretted ever showing even the briefest moment of interest in the guy.

"Sure. Did you hear what _I _said?" he squeezed Brian's cock and it was all Brian could do not to make a sound. He hated his body for betraying him but fuck, the touch felt good…but it was the wrong man, the wrong hand, the wrong everything.

"Fuck off," Brian whispered, putting his hands on Jesse's shoulders and pushing him as hard as he could.

Jesse stayed back, a teasing smile on his face and Brian leveled one last what he hoped was an 'eat shit and die' stare at him before he left the bathroom. His jeans were uncomfortably tight and when he got back to the pool table he found they'd started the game without him.

"Just in time," Ben smiled and held out the cue Brian had been using, "it's your turn."

"Can't. We're leaving," Brian ignored Ben and took Justin's cue from his hands, giving it to a questioning Michael.

Justin was quiet as Brian pulled him from the bar, and quiet as they drove out of the city heading back to the house. Finally, about halfway back, he spoke.

"What the fuck was that? If you're that upset we won't tell you about Rage-," Justin started, but when Brian gave a bitter laugh he stopped.

"What? Jesus, talk to me!"

"Don't have a queen out," Brian sighed. He didn't want to tell Justin about Jesse, and the bathroom, but he had too, right? He owed it to Justin to tell him about it, didn't he? Or was he looking for a reason to make Justin doubt him and his ability to be faithful. Was he trying to make Justin doubt his success and travels and leaving Brian behind?

"Fuck," Brian shook his head as he stared out at the road ahead of him. "Jesse was there and he cornered me in the bathroom."

"He did," Justin's response was careful, measured.

"He propositioned me," Brian laughed, "again! That guy has no shame."

"That's hilarious coming from you," Justin piped in and Brian had to grudgingly agree.

"So?" Justin asked.

"So what?"

"Did you?"

"Are you seriously asking me that?" Brian glanced sideways at Justin. He was staring back at him with an expectant expression.

Guess he was really asking.

"No," he simply stated, hearing Justin give a soft sigh.

Brian had known he still had a long way to go to earn Justin's implicit trust, but he'd thought the whole condoms thing was a pretty big indicator he'd stopped fucking around. He didn't realize he still had so far to go.

* * *

Justin left for New York two days later – and Brian's nightmares returned in full force. Thankfully it would appear he'd stopped calling out in his sleep, because he didn't find himself staring at his son in the middle of the night, or sharing his bed with the little boy and his puppy.

Still, the nightmares bothered him. Why they were suddenly coming back, when Brian had been without Justin for months on end in the past and not had this problem, made no sense. Where were they coming from and why wouldn't they stop?

Justin was once again staying at the Plaza and his calls in the evening were Brian's favorite parts of the day – it was when he could reassure himself that Justin was safe. It was so odd, because though he'd lived in the city for nearly ten months alone, for some reason his being there now, alone, made Brian insane with worry. Justin's calls at night were the only thing that would calm his nerves.

Heath had been taking Justin out and about, introducing him to his art contacts, trying to get him a manager. Then, the night Brian and Lindsay were preparing to take Gus out trick or treating, Justin had called to tell them that he was officially represented. He had a manager. Her name was Jaelynn Husted and she'd signed him just based on his prints – she hadn't even seen a painting in person yet. Brian like her immediately, her ability to recognize talent was obviously strong. Justin meanwhile teased Brian that she was like the female version of him. Brian didn't see the problem with that.

Gus had a great time trick or treating, dressed as Spiderman, and when he collapsed in bed afterwards Brian and Lindsay sat that table in the kitchen, sorting his candy, helping themselves to a few pieces, and talking.

"Justin's got a manager now," Brian said.

"Good!" Lindsay smiled, unwrapping a Hershey's mini.

"Her name is Jaelynn Husted. Do you know of her?" Brian asked, tossing a Reese's Peanut Butter cup that had come out of its wrapper into the trash can.

"I've heard of her," Lindsay nodded, "she's young and new on the scene but has been making quite a stir with her representation. There was a big article about her in Art Forum last year I think it was."

"So Justin is in good hands?" Brian asked and he could feel Lindsay's eyes on him. He refused to look up at her, simply continuing to sort out the Halloween candy.

"He is," she said finally and Brian sighed softly. That was all that mattered.


	22. I'd Die Without You

**A/N: Thank you so much for all the lovely comments. It keeps me motivated to know you enjoy the story. Thank you for reading!**

* * *

The first few weeks of November were more of the same. Brian would spend his days at Kinnetik while Justin painted at the house. Even though he came back from New York a few days into November, he had to return each of the consecutive weekends. Taking with him the canvases he worked on over the week. Brian would try to fill his time while Justin was gone with Gus and Lindsay but it was becoming more difficult to find distractions. Now that the weather was becoming decidedly colder, they spent less time out of doors and there were only so many board games and video games Brian could play before he felt like he might die of boredom. He enjoyed it as much as he could, for Gus's sake. But it was tedious. It didn't help that Brian wasn't sleeping well, or at all really, while Justin was gone.

The lack of sleep, more than anything else, grated on Brian. He was used to running on fumes – hell, most of his twenties was spent in a constant state of exhaustion. But he wasn't in his twenties anymore, and staying up because he was afraid of sleeping rather than staying up because he was dancing or fucking were two completely different things.

Brian did escape to Woody's a few nights, glad to hang out with Emmett and Drew. Sometimes Michael and Ted would come, but Ted would never stay very long. Not when he had Blake at home, waiting.

Luckily, Brian didn't see Jesse again at Woody's. Not that he was too concerned, but he was happy to not have to shoo the guy away once again.

The third Friday was Gus's monthly appointment with Marty, and on the way over to his office Brian had decided to ask the man if he could write him a prescription for sleeping pills. No harm in asking, right? All he could do was say no…

"So Gus is doing better," Brian said. He had asked Marty if they could talk and so he found himself sitting in Marty's office. Gus was in the adjoining playroom under the watchful eye of Marty's assistant.

"Yes, he's doing much better than I could have hoped. And the only person, or people, responsible for that are you and Lindsay. And Justin, too. Gus talks about him quite a bit," Marty smiled at Brian, pushing his glasses up his thin nose.

"You are doing everything right, and I don't think Gus will need much more help from me past January."

"You're sure?" Brian was glad to hear Gus was better – and he had noticed the changes himself.

As Justin's travels back and forth to New York continued, Gus stopped crying and acting clingy and started accepting it as part of his life. Brian knew it was because Justin always came back, and for Gus that was the most important thing – that people come back when they say they will. It was important for Brian too, but for different reasons.

"I am sure," Marty nodded, but leveled a curious gaze at Brian.

"Is there something else going on I should know?" he asked and Brian just shook his head.

"No," he paused, "no. Gus is good. Great, actually. I was actually wondering if you could write a prescription for sleeping pills?"

"For Gus?"

"No! God, no," Brian exclaimed emphatically, noting the look of incredulity that washed over Marty's face at the question.

"For me," Brian added.

Marty nodded as he looked at Brian. The scrutiny of his stare made Brian uncomfortable.

"I can't prescribe medication," Marty finally said, "and even if I could, I wouldn't write you a prescription without first doing a consultation. No doctor would. Or should, anyway. If you're having trouble sleeping I suggest you talk to your regular doctor about it and get some sleeping pills from them."

"Right," Brian sighed. It was a long shot, he knew, but nothing to lose from asking.

"May I ask – what's the cause of your lack of sleep?"

"Just-," Brian shook his head – he hated this, but Marty had helped Gus make a pretty remarkable recovery so…what was the harm?

"Bad dreams."

"Specific bad dreams, or just generally bad dreams…?" Marty prompted.

"They're specific," Brian sighed, picturing that awful night in his head. Even when he was awake he could still hear the sound of the bat connecting to Justin's head. It made his stomach turn.

"From a trauma you experienced?"

"A trauma I witnessed," Brian said very softly and after a long pause. He fucking didn't want to talk about it – yet he also desperately wanted to talk about it.

"I see," Marty said softly and Brian scowled at him.

He didn't see. He couldn't possibly. No one could. The bashing, the bombing, the HIV…Justin had been hurt twice because of Brian, and he had very nearly been hurt a third time because of Brian. Then he'd just shoved him away, refusing him even when he said he wanted to come back. Forcing him to live in New York when he didn't want to be there and then that fucker trashed his studio and he could have very easily hurt Justin…

That puts it at four times he'd hurt, or nearly hurt Justin. He was starting to wonder if he was even capable of protecting those around him.

"You should probably talk to someone who's trained to treat adults; you could be suffering from Post-traumatic Stress Disorder."

"You can't be serious," Brain scoffed, cocking his eyebrow at Marty. That seemed a little extreme.

"You've been under a lot of pressure and stress and it's entirely possible you're experiencing suppressed, delayed emotions from this trauma."

"But it was five fucking years ago," Brian said, feeling incredulity at the idea that he was somehow still not over the bashing.

"Five years ago…," Marty raised his eyebrows.

"Okay. Let me ask you then, has anything else happened since then, more recently maybe, that might be giving you reason to feel unnerved, or upset? That might have dredged up the old memories?"

"You mean besides my son losing his mother?" Brian laughed bitterly. Marty shrugged as if to say, 'you tell me'.

"Fuck," Brian breathed out.

"A lot of shit has fucking happened since. But that's life. You deal with it and move on," Brian shifted in the chair, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. It was like his body was rebelling against him. He could feel the anxiety of each and every bad thing that had happened in his life before and after that fucking dance, and the weight of it all was pressing down on him, suffocating him. He wanted out – to just run away and never look back. Like he used to do. It had proven to be an effective technique in the past…

"Tell me," Marty said softly, folding his hands on his desk.

"No," Brian said but without much conviction because the words threatened to tumble from his lips unbidden, regardless.

"Everyone has bad shit happen in their life," Brian said suddenly.

"That's true. But it doesn't mean you can't be affected by what happens to you and those around you. It doesn't mean the accumulation of the emotions surrounding those things doesn't linger only to come back later when you least expect it to attack you; maybe paralyzing you with fear and doubt."

Bullshit. He wasn't a fucking victim, and listing all the shit in his life wasn't going to make any difference because it all had happened – it was over. He just wanted to move on…but he couldn't. And then he saw it. He was such an idiot.

Of course, that was the problem. Running away doesn't resolve anything, and now that Brian had stopped running all that shit was trying to catch up to him.

"I thought you didn't treat adults," Brian said, stalling and feeling some surprise when Marty let out a soft chuckle.

"I don't," he responded, "and I'd hardly call this treatment. I'm trying to gauge your state of mind because, while I'm sure you don't want to hear this, you may or may not benefit from regular therapy."

Shit. Brian looked around the office, debating with himself if he wanted to open that door. Because if he did open it, it may never shut again. It may prove to reveal more than Brian was willing to let bare to anyone. It might hurt more to face it all then to try and shove it all back in.

Plus, he'd managed this long okay.

But was it fair for him to keep ignoring it? Was it fair for him to sit on all that shit and hope it didn't come to the forefront one day when his patience was wearing thin – did he want to risk potentially hurting Gus because his own shit was all fucked up? Or Justin? Or Lindsay?

Brian looked at Marty again. The man was probably not even ten years older than Brian, yet he seemed like a wise old man and for whatever reason Brian trusted him. Not that it was surprising – he wouldn't have left Gus in the man's care if he didn't trust him. Yet oddly, trusting him to take care of his son was different than trusting him enough to bare his own soul.

Brian was proud that shit didn't affect him – but maybe it did affect him. In ways he never knew – or maybe he did know but chose to ignore it because he refused to show weakness. He was the one that didn't let shit bother him; he was strong, and stoic and unemotional. Yet how many times had he felt like none of those things? Too many times.

He hadn't felt particularly strong or stoic or unemotional when his dad was hitting him, or when his mother was belittling him, or when Justin was lying bleeding from the head. He hadn't felt strong, stoic or unemotional when he'd been diagnosed with fucking cancer, or when Mikey was practically dead and Justin was hurt again from that fucking bombing, or when he thought he'd said goodbye forever to the one man who had found his way into Brian's heart, and definitely not when Justin was threatened by someone who actually thought it okay to cause physical damage to his property.

Marty held his gaze, seeming to wait for Brian to speak.

When Brian did speak, it was like a dam had been broken. He started at the beginning. He hit the highlights regarding his parents, than fast-forwarded to meeting Justin, the Prom and Chris Hobbs, Stockwell, the cancer, Vic's death, the bombing at Babylon, Lindsay and Mel taking Gus to Canada, Justin leaving for New York, the car accident and Mel's death, the HIV scare and his long-distance troubles with Justin, finishing the entire saga with the stalker in New York who had trashed Justin's workspace. The connective tissue through almost all of it was Justin, and even as he talked Brian started to see the pattern – he started to connect the dots himself and he wondered why it had never occurred to him before.

"That's a lot to deal with. Take just one of those things and most people wouldn't be able to handle the emotional stress of it all. I'm quite impressed you're as stable as you appear to be, actually," Marty leaned back in his chair and Brian couldn't help but offer the other man a sarcastic smile.

"I'm resilient," he added.

"Yes. You are. That's obvious because as I said, anyone else would likely crumble under the stress of just one or two of those events. But you're not completely resilient and no matter how much you might fight it, you're emotionally scarred – and not all those wounds are healed. I do think you should seek help from a professional because I sense there's a lot in your past you haven't resolved emotionally," Marty pulled a pen from the blotter on his desk and scribbled several lines onto a blank sheet of paper.

"Colleagues of mine that I think would appeal to your particular sensibilities," Marty smiled and held the paper out.

Brian stared at it blankly for what felt like several minutes. The paper fluttered softly in the warm air circulating the office.

"Please take it. After everything you've told me I'd hate to see you not deal with this only to fall apart later and hurt those around you. Justin. Or Gus."

Gus.

Fucking psychologists. With a heavy sigh Brian reached out and took the paper, not bothering to look at it as he folded it and slipped it into his pants pocket.

It all made sense. It made perfect sense, actually. Justin had been hurt so many times due to Brian's thoughtlessness and now here he was expecting the worst once again. They had a track record and Brian was on edge constantly, waiting for the other shoe to drop – waiting for the next horrible thing to come. It felt like he could measure the past five years in horrible things that happened to him, or those around him.

"If you think you need some sleeping aids, you'll likely have to go see psychiatrist. Two of the names I wrote down on there are psychiatrists. The other is a psychologist like me, but she can't prescribe medication so keep that in mind if you make an appointment. You can probably also get the pills from your regular doctor but that isn't going to cure the overarching problem. You need to deal with your past experiences. And I'm not sure you're capable of doing that on your own."

Brian looked up sharply at Marty.

"You don't know what I'm capable of dealing with," Brian said in low voice.

Parental abuse, rejection by the very people who were supposed to love him unconditionally, disease in his body, fatherhood…Marty may know the generalities of a few of the low points in his life, but he didn't the specifics. He didn't know how hard Brian fought for, and against so many of those things.

"I don't mean you aren't strong, Brian," Marty said calmly, "of course you are. Look at what you did and are doing for Gus. But your ability to take care of others doesn't mean you necessarily know what's best for yourself."

Brian nodded once and stood from his chair. He was done. He needed to think and figure out what the hell we was willing to do…how far he was willing to go to. Was he willing to admit any weakness? Because that's what it felt like – he'd avoided this very situation for so long he was convinced he could continue to do so but what if he couldn't? What if it only got worse and he ended up pushing Justin away again? What if he ended up lashing out at Gus and hurting him?

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," Brian smiled sarcastically before turning and leaving Marty's office, collecting Gus on his way out.

The drive back to the house Gus jabbered on, about what Brian didn't even know. He was lost in his own thoughts. Deep down he knew Marty was right, but admitting it even to himself was proving very, very hard and the further away from the city and that office the more Brian was able to convince himself he was just fine. He didn't need any help. He'd deal with it like he always did – and once this art show was over and Justin wasn't traveling as much things would go back to normal.

Brian ignored the real issue; the fact that he didn't like to rely on anyone other than himself for his well-being. Fuck, look how long it took for him to accept Justin and everything he meant to him! He had always known that there was no one he could rely on but himself – and everyone around him would eventually leave him or let him down. And his theory had been proven right so many fucking times. But those who left him also came back – most of them anyway. So didn't that count for something? Didn't Brian owe it to them to take care of himself? Did he really want to spend the next…however long it ended up he was without Justin in his bed, thrashing in his sleep and waking his son? If it started happening with more frequency, it might freak the kid out. And Gus didn't need that kind of pressure or responsibility. He wasn't meant to take care of Brian, Brian was meant to take care of him; and taking care of Gus meant taking care of himself. Of making sure he was healthy and sane and able to focus his energy on his kid, not on his frayed nerves.

Fuck!

Brian didn't want to go see a fucking shrink.

But maybe he should.

Maybe he needed to.

Maybe…

* * *

Justin came home a few days later and not a moment too soon. Brian had taken to staying up all night rather than go to sleep and risking the dreams and possibly waking Gus and he was anxiously counting the minutes until he could collapse in bed with Justin beside him, secure in the knowledge that the other man was safe. Even with having a better understanding of what had brought on the recurring bad dreams and memories, Brian was no closer to making them disappear. He'd considered Marty's list, and even Googled the names. They all seemed perfectly competent and successful. But he simply couldn't bring himself to pick up the phone and make the call.

Justin, who had hired a car to shuttle him back to the house rather than make Brian drive into town yet again, arrived at the house near 8pm on Sunday night and Brian whisked him off to bed almost immediately, leaving Lindsay to tend to Gus for the short remainder of their evening.

"You look like shit," Justin said with a furrowed brow as he dropped his travel bag on the floor of their bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him.

"Thanks," Brian smiled sarcastically before he pulled his tee over his head, shed his pants and crawled directly into bed, foregoing the rest of his usual nighttime ritual. God, he was so fucking tired…

"Is everything okay?" Justin peeled his shirt and pants off and crawled across the bed, nestling himself under the covers and laying his head on Brian's shoulder, his legs interweaving with Brian's.

"Tired," Brian yawned as his eyes fell, heavy with sleep.

He wanted to tell Justin about the dreams, and what Marty had told him – but not yet. He was so fucking tired and now that Justin was home, in his arms, safe, his body heat warming Brian he simply couldn't fight his exhaustion any longer.

* * *

When Brian awoke the following morning he was alone in bed. He glanced at his bedside clock and saw it read 6:15am.

He barely remembered going to bed – but he could tell right away that he'd slept through the night without a single bad dream. With a loud yawn Brian rose from bed and donned sweatpants and a sweatshirt. One thing this house didn't have was a very efficient heating system. The whole place always had a slight chill to it which made wandering around half naked a little uncomfortable. Not that Brian would wander around half-naked with Gus in the house but still…

Brian peered into Gus's room and seeing the little boy still asleep in his bed he tiptoed down the stairs, finding Justin in the kitchen reading the paper. Sunny was lying on the floor at Justin's feet. The puppy raised his head and wagged his tail as Brian came into the kitchen, but he didn't get up.

"Morning," Brian said through another yawn, pouring some coffee and joining Justin at the table.

"Can I make you some eggs or something?" Justin asked and Brian just shook his head, taking the Finance section of the paper from Justin.

They were quiet for a few minutes, the only sounds the turning of pages.

Suddenly Brian felt Justin's stare on him and he raised his head to find wide, and worried, blue eyes looking back at him.

"Are you sick again?" Justin asked softly.

"What?" Brian paused, his coffee mug at his mouth. He looked at Justin, narrowing his eyes and shaking his head before taking a sip.

"No," he said, "why would you ask me that?"

"It's just the last time you passed out in bed still sober and without so much as a kiss goodnight was when…," Justin's expression looked less worried, but only just a little bit less.

"I told you a few months ago, my cancer screening was clear," Brian reiterated.

Justin nodded, his lips pursed together. They were quiet for another several long minutes. Brian heard the muted sounds of Lindsay's alarm clock start to go off before it was silenced.

"How long are you back for this time," Brian asked, scanning the stocks and cursing at the downward trend that seemed to be neverending.

"Heath wants me back on the 20th. For the whole week," Justin said and Brian paused, raising his eyes once more to look at Justin.

"I know," Justin groaned.

"Deb's gonna kill you if you aren't there," Brian warned, smiling wickedly.

"My mother will too," Justin said with a sigh.

"Not that it matters to me, but maybe Heath will let you come back? I mean, it is Thanksgiving. You'd think he'd have some family or something to go be with," Brian said softly. He cared that Justin would be gone again, but he really didn't care about the holiday. Thanksgiving was nothing to him but an inconvenient holiday that forced him to give his staff two days off work. It was a pain in the ass.

"Maybe," Justin smiled, glancing over his shoulder as Lindsay rolled into the kitchen.

"Mornin'," he chirped and when Brian snorted a laugh he got a light kick in the shin for it.

Sunny, who hadn't risen to greet Brian, did rise to greet Lindsay, wagging his tail and trying to jump up on her lap.

"No Sunny!" Lindsay pushed the dog away with a sigh, smiling at the two men tiredly.

"I'll go get Gus up," Brian smirked, leaving Lindsay to pepper Justin with all the questions he knew she was dying to ask.

Justin needed to stock up on art supplies in Pittsburgh, so he rode with Brian into town, borrowing the car and leaving Brian at Kinnetik. They planned to meet up later at the diner for lunch.

Brian, well rested, spent the morning getting a lot of work done, and he felt good about the fall and winter campaign plans that would start going out that week. Brian and his employees had been putting in a lot of extra hours to get some of the new campaigns ready. Many of them required only some little adjustments for the winter and holiday season, but it was still a lot of work, and Brian figured the Kinnetik staff would be expecting a pretty awesome bonus, and a pretty amazing Christmas Party for all their work.

At lunchtime, Brian walked the few blocks to the diner, seeing his car parked and loaded up with stretched canvases and bags containing tubes of paint, pastels, and charcoals. Brian hadn't seen Justin work in any media other than paint, and pencil when he used to sketch, so he was curious about the additional supplies.

Deb wasn't working the lunch shift which meant, though Brian and Justin were known by name and sight by everyone else who worked at the diner, they weren't given any special treatment. Justin didn't get extra French Fries with his burger, and Brian didn't get free refills on his tomato soup. It wasn't much, but the way Deb would dote on them when they'd come in to eat was missed.

The diner, as usual, was bustling during the lunch hour and though there were many people waiting to be seated, Brian and Justin didn't rush. Justin wanted to hear about Brian's week – how things were at Kinnetik, and how things were going at home. When Brian told Justin that Gus wouldn't have to see Marty any more after January, Justin had been thrilled. Brian kept his own emotional struggles to himself but he didn't deny, when asked by Justin, that he continued to have the same few bad dreams – when he actually slept.

Likewise, Brian wanted to hear more about the show, and Heath, and how things were going in New York. Justin was eager to talk, and happy to answer questions, but he seemed distracted by something. The usual fire and excitement that had previously accompanied any talk of art shows and New York was gone. And that worried Brian considerably.

Justin was in the middle of describing a new painting to Brian when his eyes traveled to the door and his expression fell.

"Fuck," he sighed, stopping his story midsentence to roll his eyes and fall back against the bench.

Brian, who was sitting with his back to the door, furrowed his brow and turned in his seat to look.

Jesse.

"Jesus," he said softly, turning back to Justin. "Ignore him."

"If he wasn't done working with Lindsay at the end of this month, I'd actually ask you to fire his ass," Justin breathed.

Brian watched his blue eyes flicker up and over his left shoulder to the door before they traveled back down to his plate.

"I know," Brian said.

If he hadn't known Jesse's presence in his home would be short-term, he would've fired his ass long ago. But he'd put up with him because he helped Lindsay, and she liked him. Brian hadn't informed her of his inappropriate come-on's to him at Woody's. But it didn't matter. He would be gone soon, and it's not like Brian would act on his advances anyway. At this point, it was more about stubborn pride than an actual refusal of the proposition but either way – Jesse wasn't going to get another chance to corner Brian, or put his hands on him. He wouldn't get another chance to harass Justin, or make him feel uncomfortable in his own home.

Justin sat up suddenly, his expression hardening into a sickly sweet smile and when Brian glanced to his left he saw Jesse walk past with three other guys in tow. He met Brian's gaze and winked, his mouth in a wide grin.

"Prick," Justin spat under his breath after they'd passed. He looked at Brian then and his expression changed. He appeared thoughtful, and Brian braced for a "serious discussion".

"Are you happy?" Justin asked suddenly.

Brian was slightly startled by the question – it wasn't what he was expecting and a part of him wondered if this was some kind of trap he was wandering into. Was there a right answer? Of course he was happy – mainly when Justin was there with him, but was that what Justin wanted to hear?

"Yes," Brian said slowly, offering a nervous smile.

Justin smiled back and looked down at his hands, which were folded on the tabletop. Again, Brian felt the stirrings of something more and he shifted slightly in his seat, a cold spot growing in his chest.

"Uh, are you?" Brian asked back, as fear this was going somewhere he didn't want it to started to grow inside him.

"Mostly," Justin looked back up at Brian and his expression was pained.

Mostly. What the fuck did that mean? And why did Brian suddenly feel like the times Justin wasn't happy had to do with him?

"When I'm in New York I think I'm happy. I feel like I'm supposed to be happy. I'm busy, and it's fun talking art and planning this show with Heath. It's exciting discussing future possibilities with Jaelynn," Justin looked wistful, his eyes glistening.

Brian's heart raced as he listened closely to what Justin was saying. Was there a hidden meaning he was meant to pick up on? Justin typically didn't talk in code, but they both had grown and changed so much in the last year or so…

"But then I go back to the hotel, and I'm there alone and I fucking miss you so much," Justin smiled and a single tear slipped from his eye. Justin swiped at it and held Brian's gaze. "I wonder what you're doing. If you're at the house having dinner with Gus and Lindsay, or working late at Kinnetik, or maybe out at Woody's or Babylon. I wonder if you are happy. I hope you're happy. Even if I'm not there."

"What are you-," Brian leaned forward, perplexed. He had no clue where Justin was headed with this conversation.

"I want you to be happy, above everything else," Justin interrupted with a sigh and Brian shrugged, his shoulders tense with anxiety.

"I am. So what are you talking about?"

"Before I left for New York the first time, you changed. You stopped tricking, you became this pod-person, a pale shadow of yourself because you thought that was what I wanted – and you were miserable. I don't want to be the cause of you being miserable again. I know what it means to you, to stop fucking around. But I'm out of town half the month, and I doubt my travels will lessen after the show," Justin seemed to collapse into the bench, "unless I completely fail."

"I still don't get what you're saying," Brian said softly, even though he had a pretty good idea where it was going.

"I know what it meant when you let me make love to you without a condom," Justin leaned forward too, his voice low. Brian felt certain even if those people sitting around them wanted to eavesdrop, they wouldn't be able to hear either of them over the steady din of noise in the diner.

"I love you so much for that gift, and for promising me you'll be faithful," Justin paused and Brian knew a 'but' was forthcoming.

"But," Justin reached out and grasped Brian's hands, "I want to release you from that promise."

Brian laughed. This was all too confusing and he didn't understand what was going on.

"I think we should start using condoms again, and I want you to promise me that if you need to go out and get release when I'm gone, you will," Justin said.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Brian laughed. This had to be a joke, because Justin wouldn't say these things, right? Not after what they'd gone through.

Suddenly, Brian needed to get out of the diner so they could talk, really talk, free from ears that would happily absorb and spread any and all gossip they could possibly take in. Brian started to slide out of the booth, pulling his wallet from his pocket and tossing a $50 down.

"Let's go," he said to Justin's questioning look.

Ten minutes later they were sitting on the same bench in the same park where Brian once sat with Lindsay and denied ever loving Justin. Ha. He had known then that Lindsay didn't believe him, but it made him feel better to say it out loud – even if it had been a total lie at the time.

"So let me get this straight," Brian said, "you want me to feel free to fuck around while you're out of town? Is that what I heard you say at the diner?"

They were sitting side by side, their knees touching but nothing else. They were both staring straight ahead, though Brian could see Justin fidgeting in his peripheral vision.

"Yeah," he replied.

Brian nodded and tried to reconcile what was happening. He appreciated Justin's gesture, and a part of him found the thought of it appealing. He thought it would be so easy to fall back into old patterns but Brian was tired of living his life easy and he'd put that behind him – months ago. The challenge of remaining faithful to Justin was, surprisingly, more appealing. Plus, he didn't think it would be very responsible of him to live his old lifestyle now that he was a primary parent for Gus. It was too dangerous.

Fuck! All he had to do was look back at what had happened in Toronto with Sam to see the potential repercussions of going back to his old ways.

"It's not really necessary anymore," Brian said slowly, seeing Justin turn to look at him.

"I kind of like it being just you and me," Brian admitted, surprised that he didn't have to try even a little bit to convince himself it was true.

Justin's expression was still pained and Brian couldn't make sense of why his answer wasn't making the other man happier. All Justin had ever wanted was for Brian to choose him over everyone else; now he was, yet there was no joy in the younger man's face.

"What's wro-," Brian started to ask and then it occurred to him. And to say he was confused by the revelation would be an understatement. Justin's face fell as he realized Brian figured it out, and that was all the confirmation Brian needed.

Shit. This was unexpected, so say the least.

"What happened?" Brian asked. He couldn't even get angry because it simply didn't make sense. Maybe he was wrong? Though the look on Justin's face disputed that possibility. He wouldn't look so sad and forlorn if he was wrong.

"Jaelynn invited me over for a dinner party my last night there," Justin started, turning his gaze back out to the kids running around on the playground. Brian followed his gaze. It might be mid-November but that didn't stop them from enjoying the fresh air.

"There were something like twenty people there, most of them artists, nearly all of them gay," Justin laughed softly, "someone started serving me these fruity mixed drinks and before I knew it I was in the bathroom, my pants around my ankles and my dick in some guy's mouth."

Brian nodded with a slow exhale. A blowjob. He could handle that.

"That it?" he asked.

"Yes," Justin answered with conviction but still sounding devastated. Brian could imagine the admission probably hurt Justin worse than it hurt him.

Not that he wasn't hurt – but a blowjob – that wasn't much of anything. That wasn't letting someone else fuck him. Brian knew for a fact he would have had a harder time getting over that – he didn't even want to know if Ethan was the top or bottom when Justin was with him because the thought of Justin letting anyone else fuck him caused Brian immense jealousy. Tricking, Justin always topped – Brian knew that. He could handle that. But he had to believe he was the only one Justin let inside him.

"Okay," Brian breathed.

"Okay?"

"Don't do it again?" Brian tried instead, lifting his arm and resting it on Justin's shoulders, pulling him closer.

"But -," Justin started but Brian silenced him with a finger to the lips.

"Stop," Brian said gently. "Thank you for telling me. It might have been a bit too much to swear complete fidelity from the start. I think we need to go forward from here with an understanding that mess-ups happen. It's likely unrealistic to think they'll never happen again. So if we mess-up more than a blowjob then it's back to condoms. And I don't know about you but, forgive the pun, inserting that kind of a fucking barrier back into our sex life is as good a tricking deterrent as anything."

Brian laughed and pressed his mouth to Justin's ear, whispering, "being inside you, my cock touching you in the most intimate way, skin on skin, gliding in and out, is more desirable and amazing and wonderful than any quick release a trick could provide."

Justin laughed softly and squirmed in Brian's embrace, turning to press a kiss on Brian's lips before he added, "I couldn't agree more."

"Have I told you today that I love you?" Justin twisted more fully, so he was facing Brian.

Shaking his head, Brian smirked and let his desire to taste Justin's lips overtake him, forgetting they were sitting in a very public park, in the middle of the day.

In the end, they agreed to try and stay faithful, but to come clean if they weren't. It was the best they could do, and they promised to always hear the other out, if a slip-up should occur. They both knew it was not just likely, but probably a certainty, not that it meant they were given a free pass to fuck around – because neither of them wanted that; what it meant was they had the comfort of knowing they could confess to the slip up and be forgiven for it.

* * *

The week went by fast. Justin worked all day every day and sometimes into the night on another new painting for the show, but he made up for it when he'd join Brian in bed. It reminded Brian of some of the fuckfests they'd used to have early on – going three, four, even five times in a night. Yeah, Brian wasn't going to complain about that part.

And he wasn't going to complain that for the week Justin was in their bed, Brian didn't have a single nightmare.

Then just as quickly as Justin had arrived he was gone again, leaving early Friday morning for New York. He'd worked it out with Heath that if he came back to New York a few days early, he could then come back to Pittsburgh for Thanksgiving. Brian knew that would appease Jennifer and Deb who had both been outraged at Justin missing the holiday. Brian too was glad, because it meant an entire weekend with Justin at the loft. Lindsay, after an early Thanksgiving dinner at Deb's, was going to then go spend the long weekend with her parents, Gus and JR in tow. Her parents hadn't spent much time with JR, so that was the main impetus behind her weekend plans. Brian was glad as it left him the weekend free, and really he wanted nothing more than to lock Justin in the loft and fuck him all day, and all night, and all day, and all night…

But first he had to make it to Thanksgiving.

The Friday Justin left was also Lindsay's follow up appointment with her doctors for her injury. She had finished her prescribed physical therapy with Jesse, and hadn't decided if she was going to continue or not. She wanted to see what the doctors said about her progress.

She wanted Brian there for support, and on the way to the appointment she told him she felt good about it. She had high hopes that if she continued to work hard she might eventually be able to walk again. She thought she was stronger and her attitude was positive, which Brian remembered from Justin's rehabilitation, was important.

Sitting in the waiting room while Lindsay was being examined Brian had time to reflect on the recent developments. His emotional duress, which had disappeared when Justin had been there, still needed his attention but he was no closer to deciding if he was willing to open himself up to closer examination. To be honest, he was a little scared of what might come out and while he never outright disliked himself he was also afraid that if he examined his previous actions too closely he might learn that he was really a despicable person; and that would be devastating.

Brian thought about Lindsay. Namely, if she decided to continue her PT Brian was going to have to ask her to find someone else other than Jesse. Brian couldn't have that guy in his house any more. Not just because he seemed to not get the message that Brian wasn't interested, but because it made Justin uncomfortable. Brian could handle the harassment. In fact, it kind of turned him on to reject someone like Jesse. But the stress it put on Justin was unacceptable, and he should never have to feel that way in his own home. So no more Jesse, one way or the other.

Then there was Justin's small slip…

It really didn't bother him. Other than the initial surprise that it was Justin who had made the first mistake. Based on their history and the strength of Brian's libido, it was unexpected to have Justin confess to such a thing. But shit happens and Brian didn't blame him, nor was he angry. A little disappointed maybe, but what he'd told Justin was also true – there was only the slightest chance that they'd live their lives together without one or the other messing up. Brian didn't want it to happen – but he wasn't so naive as to think that just because they'd confessed their love and had fucked without condoms that suddenly there were no more temptations. There'd always be temptations – but it was weighing the consequences of giving in to the temptation that would hopefully deter most slip ups. Because the way it felt, fucking Justin without that thin barrier between them was all the difference in the world. He hadn't expected the sensations to be so electric, so stimulating. Which was silly in and of itself. The sensation of sex with a condom was so pleasurable it only made sense that without one everything would be amplified. Brian just hadn't been prepared for how amplified. And he supposed that was why he'd never thought about it before. Because if he'd known, he might not have been able to discipline himself to stay safe.

Lindsay's appointment was just over an hour, and when she emerged Brian tried to gauge her mood. She seemed okay, but there was a lingering sadness hanging over her and he wondered if maybe she wasn't as far along as she'd thought going in. But she wouldn't talk about it, instead insisting that they go home, gather Gus and go out for pizza and ice cream.

* * *

Weirton, West Virginia. The "address" of Britin and where Gus went to school. It was a small town, but friendly enough. Brian wasn't sure anyone in the town really knew that the big house he, Justin, Lindsay, and Gus all shared was a hotbed of homosexuals, but he also got the feeling it might not matter. He hadn't met or seen another gay man in the few times he'd gone into town, but that didn't mean there weren't any. Though Brian did doubt their presence. Not when Pittsburgh was so close.

Gus loved going into town. The main street was old fashioned, and along with several antiques shops, fashion boutiques, and restaurants there was an old-fashioned soda fountain that had captured Gus's attention the very first time they'd gone. Even Brian had to admit, it was a pretty cool place. There were a few pinball machines in the back, as well as a few of those coin-operated kiddie rides so prevalent in suburban grocery stores. But for some reason their presence in this setting wasn't as unnerving.

Next door to the soda-fountain was a pizza-by-the-slice shop. The slices, bigger than Brian's face, were always hot and fresh and though Brian tended to avoid pizza when he could help it, he indulged here.

Pizza, ice cream sodas, and then new toys. When Gus was finished with his chocolate soda and they'd exited the shop to head back to the car Gus's attention was caught by a window of flashing lights and he'd begged to be allowed to go inside. It was a new toy store, just opened that day apparently. It wasn't too crowded, which was good for Lindsay since her chair barely fit through much of store. The place seemed to cater to one-of-a-kind and old-fashioned style toys. Toys that were meant to capture a child's imagination. As such, Brian happily bought Gus several things, including a fancy harness for Sunny so Gus could take him "on walks".

As the evening wore on and the shops on the main street starting closing up, Brian pulled Gus away from the toy store and got him loaded into the car to head home. It had been a long day for them all, though Brian still didn't know what had happened at Lindsay's appointment. She flat out refused to answer any of his questions.

Gus fell asleep almost as soon as Brian started the car, and when they got home Brian carried him up to bed and tucking him in before bringing Sunny inside from the garage. He paused outside Gus's doorway, watching him sleep and marveling at how he was partially responsible for the person Gus was, and would be. It was overwhelming.

Lindsay had retreated to her suite of rooms so Brian crossed the hall to his own bedroom, closing the door behind him and staring forlornly at the bed. Justin hadn't called yet, and though Brian was exhausted there was no way he would be able to sleep without hearing Justin's voice – and even then he wasn't sure he'd sleep soundly, or even through the night without another nightmare, usually the first night Justin was gone was the best one.

Brian walked over to the windows that overlooked the back acreage and expanse of forest that stretched out behind the house. It was pitch dark out – a new moon – so Brian could see nothing beyond the small area lit by the exterior lighting. But he could see stars, and he was reminded of the painting Justin had done a few months ago, depicting the night sky as it appeared when they'd made love, raw, just after the HIV results had come in.

"Shit," Brian whispered, feeling his cock swell with memories of that night, and all the nights after.

His cell phone chose that moment to ring, vibrating loudly on the nightstand where Brian had left it. Turning and crossing the room, Brian picked it up and answered without checking who was calling.

"Sunshine," he growled in a low trembling voice. His free hand had already unbuttoned his jeans and disappeared inside as he stroked his cock in anticipation of some hot phone sex.

But there was only silence.

"Justin?" Brian pulled the phone away from his ear to look at the name and was surprised to see it was Lindsay.

"Linds? Are you there?" Brian released his dick and sat on the edge of bed, his heart racing as he heard a choked sob.

"Brian? Can you come down here please?" she managed to whisper, but the heart-wrenching pain in her voice indicated the urgency.

"I'll be there in two seconds," Brian tossed his cell phone on the bed, buttoned his jeans and strode quickly from the room. He barely registered the sound of the phone vibrating again and the following morning when he finally saw the missed call, he would explain to Justin, in general terms, the drama of the evening.

Brian didn't bother knocking at Lindsay's door – he simply threw it open and walked quickly into the room, his eyes searching. He saw her chair first, empty and at her bedside, before his eyes found her sitting on top of the bed. She was still fully clothed, but she held a box of tissues on her lap and her eyes were red.

"What the fuck? Are you okay?" Brian hurried to her bed, sitting on the edge and taking on of Lindsay's hands in his.

She couldn't answer him, just shaking her head as she gasped another sob and a wave of tears burst forth.

This was not Brian's area of expertise. He could offer solace, begrudgingly and in his own Brian Kinney way, but he'd never been faced with someone so on the verge of a complete breakdown as Lindsay was. Not even Gus, on his worst days, was this upset.

He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to say. When Lindsay leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest Brian just held her. Her entire body wracked with sobs and it was only seconds before Brian felt the wetness from her tears soak through his white tee shirt.

One hand on her back, Brian let his other hand stroke her hair as he tried to calm her. He stared at the alarm clock on her nightstand, watching as the minutes ticked by and yet she didn't let up. Finally, ten minutes later, she pulled back.

Her face was a mess. Her eyes were swollen and so red it was almost as if all her blood vessels had popped. She had two streams of snot running from her nose, and her hair was sticking up on top of her head.

She shook her head as she leaned back against the headboard of the bed, blowing her nose into a fresh tissue before throwing it on the floor where there was already a decent sized pile.

"I'm sorry," she hiccupped, her voice hoarse and cracking on the words.

"Don't," Brian stood, grabbing the water bottle provided by the hospital to her off her nightstand and going into her bathroom he filled it with water.

Lindsay offered him a weak smile as he handed it to her. She bent the straw and took a small sip, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the wall.

"My life is fucked," she whispered with a shuddering sigh.

"What happened?" Brian walked to the other side of the bed, sitting next to her on the mattress and taking her hand in his.

"Lindsay," he pressed the back of her hand to his lips and laid several soft kisses there, "talk to me."

"It's Mel's birthday next month," Lindsay said, her voice cracking on the last word and a single tear slipped from her eye. She didn't move to wipe it away and Brian watched as it tracked down the side of her face to her jaw where it paused before moving to her chin and dripping onto her lap. He could see the small, wet stain it left on her shirt.

"She always hated that her birthday was in December," Lindsay laughed, "I mean, for Hanukah she liked it, but the big holiday to-do in December is always Christmas, isn't it."

Brian smiled gently when Lindsay turned to look at him. He didn't talk, just squeezed her hand in encouragement. He wasn't entirely sure she'd been speaking about Melanie at all, with anyone, for months, and it was highly obvious she needed too.

"I was going to surprise her with a trip to New York City for Christmas," Lindsay continued, "I knew Deb would watch the kids if you and Michael couldn't. I just wanted to get away with her. Just the two of us. Like it used to be. I missed that, ya know?"

Brian nodded as she looked at him again. He did now. Now that he had someone to miss, he knew it all too well. It wasn't quite the same thing, but it was as close as Brian ever hoped to understand because he wasn't sure he wouldn't go insane if something happened to Justin. In fact, he knew he would.

"I haven't been to the gravesite yet," she went on. "I'm afraid if I go then it'll really be real. Not like it's not real now, but most days I can pretend she's just away on business, or out shopping. It's only at night that I really miss her, and when I want to call her and tell her about Gus, or JR. Or you and Justin."

She smiled at Brian then, and he caught of glimpse of his old friend in the gesture. She wasn't too far lost, and Brian felt a wave of relief at that.

"I still have her number in my cell phone," Lindsay laughed. "Fuck, I still have her old cell phone. I call it sometimes, when I need to hear her voice. I'm just thankful she got rid of that awful automated voice and personalized her message. Because it's practically all that's left."

"Not all," Brian said then.

It wasn't all. There was a box of home movies in the garage. VHS tapes that chronicled the past almost ten years of Mel and Linds. Most of them were of the kids, and taken in the last five years, but there were some from the early years – when they went to Niagara Falls on their first anniversary; or when they went to Baltimore for a conference and stayed extra days to sightsee; or when, after having been together only a short time, they went to Washington DC to protest the signing into law of the Defense of Marriage Act. There were so many memories tied up in that box, and for Lindsay's sake Brian was glad they existed. He wasn't one for sentimentality, obviously, but he too had to admit that having those few photos of Justin he'd found at the loft, to look at and reminisce about, had gone a long way towards healing him and allowing him to let Justin back into his life and his heart.

Lindsay hadn't been able to bring herself to watch any of those old tapes though, and Brian also couldn't blame her there, either. It would be hard; so fucking hard.

She fell against Brian, heaving a heavy sigh and snuggling against him. Brian put an arm around her and pulled her closer.

"I'm not going to walk again," she said after several long minutes.

Brian had thought she was asleep, her breathing had evened out and she was limp against his body. Her voice, and her words, surprised him.

"What?"

"I'm not improving. My strength today at the doctors was exactly the same as it was in July when they'd released me from the rehab center," her voice was soft, but she didn't sound like she would burst into tears again, so that was a good thing.

"It's not fair," she added and Brian saw her toes wiggle ever so slowly. "I can move my legs, I can feel when you touch me, or when Gus sits on my lap, or when Sunny tries to jump on me. But I can't fucking walk. And I never will. The doctor said as much."

"Did he really say that?" Brian asked gently. It wouldn't surprise him if Lindsay was exaggerating, hearing only the bad news.

"He said and I quote, 'Your leg strength isn't improving and your nerve endings haven't repaired themselves. It's unlikely you'll ever be able to walk on your own'," Lindsay lifted her hands to do the quotey-fingers.

Brian rolled his lips into his mouth and nodded.

"Well, shit," he finally said and Lindsay laughed.

"Yeah," she added.

They were quiet again for several long minutes. Brian felt his eyes growing heavy and he wanted nothing more than to slink down under the covers and sleep.

"Brian?" Lindsay's questioning voice drew him back from the brink.

"Hmmmm?"

"I know we can't stay here forever. Gus and I," she pulled away from him then, and looked at him. Her brown eyes a little clearer since she'd stopped crying.

"I'm going to start looking for a job, and a place. I think we'll have to move back to Pittsburgh though," she shrugged. "I mean it's nice out here and Gus loves it, but I can't commute and let's face it, if I'm wheelchair bound, living out here in the elements isn't exactly ideal."

It made sense, and Brian supposed he should have seen this coming. He wasn't sure what he expected but he knew Lindsay couldn't live with him and Justin forever. But Gus…Brian wasn't sure how he felt about losing Gus. He'd been taking care of him, almost all on his own, for ten months now. He'd become accustomed to being a full-time dad. He wasn't prepared to feel the panic at losing that distinction. Though he wouldn't be losing it, not really. Gus would still come visit and at least he'd be closer in Pittsburgh than in Toronto.

"And my parents can help out," Lindsay kept on, "and Deb."

She looked at him and must have seen something in his expression because she offered a tiny smile. "I can't stay here Brian. I can't invade your home with Justin. I won't be the third wheel, literally."

He wanted to fight her, to tell her no. That she could stay, that he would take care of them. She didn't have to leave, or get a job, or anything. But he didn't. Because that wasn't fair. It was selfish of him to wish them to stay. Lindsay had to resume her life, and she couldn't do that out in rural West Virginia. Also selfishly, he couldn't help but imagine the wonders of having free reign to fuck Justin anywhere and everywhere in the house.

"How soon do you think you'll leave," Brian said slowly, cautiously.

"Well considering I have no money saved, no job, and certainly nowhere to go, it won't be for a few months at least," she laughed softly, her hand resting on Brian's chest where she gently pressed into him.

"Don't worry dad, it'll probably be a year or so," she looked up at Brian and he could see the understanding in her expression.

He smiled back at her. Of course she knew, of course she could see. Lindsay did have a way about that – about seeing him. Not always, but many times.

"What happened to Mel's money?" Brian asked changing the subject to something less emotionally charged.

"All of Mel's life insurance went into trust funds for the kids," Lindsay smiled, "that's how we wanted it."

"That's ridiculous," Brian scoffed, "and stupid!"

Lindsay looked at him with a disappointing look on her face.

"Lindsay; I could, at this moment, put enough money into the bank for both kids to live off of for the rest of their lives and still have plenty to support myself until I'm gone. Why the hell would you put yourself into financial dire straights like that when you knew, you _knew_ I would never let either of those kids want for a single damn thing!"

"I was important to Mel," Lindsay smiled softly and Brian regretted his outburst. Fuck Melanie and her pride. He knew that's what it was.

Brian shook his head.

They sat silently together for a long while, and soon Brian recognized the heavy, deep breathing of sleep. Gently, Brian scooted Lindsay down the bed, pulling the covers out from beneath her and draping them over her. He considered going upstairs to his own bed but something told him he just might sleep through the night if he stayed down with Lindsay. So Brian pulled off his jeans and crawled into bed next to Lindsay, brushing hair off her face as he watched her sleep. It wasn't long before Brian was lost to dreamland, too.

What felt like moments later Brian was being shaken awake. It was hot, at least he thought it was hot. His entire body was drenched with sweat and as he pulled himself from sleep to look at Lindsay's concerned face staring back at him he knew he'd been dreaming. Thankfully, he couldn't remember which one it was, but based on the buckets of sweat he was swimming in, it had been one of the bad ones.

"What?" he grumbled to Lindsay in an attempt to play off the obvious. He knew it wouldn't work, but it made him feel better – for the moment anyway.

"What the hell Brian?" she was perched on her elbow, her brow drawn tight.

"Just a bad dream," he shrugged, throwing off the covers and sighing as the cool air hit his damp body. He shivered as a chill traveled through him. Standing from the bed, he stripped off his shirt and draped it over the foot of the bed. He could feel Lindsay's eyes on him, but he avoided her gaze as he stretched and tried to let his sweaty body air dry.

"Brian."

"Brian?"

"Brian!"

He refused to look at her, walking to the bathroom instead and splashing cool water on his face, letting it drip in wandering rivulets down his neck and chest. He stared at his reflection and willed himself to get a grip. He didn't want to be a drama-queen and he hated that he couldn't contain control of his emotions like he'd always been able to in the past.

When he finally emerged from the bathroom, Lindsay was sitting up in the bed, staring at him.

"Peter," she said so softly that Brian almost didn't hear her. It was that word, that one nickname that harkened back to the good-old days, when he and Lindsay would stay up all night in the dorms, talking and drinking and smoking, that nearly broke him.

"I'm fine," he said gently, offering a smile that felt pretty convincing on his face. Lindsay's expression didn't lead him to believe she bought it, but her concerned expression relaxed a little bit.

"How long have you been having nightmares?" she asked and Brian shrugged.

"Off and on. A few years," he tried to play it off but Lindsay's surprised reaction hit him hard.

"Brian," Lindsay's tone was soft, but full of worry.

"No. Stop," Brian paced at the foot of the bed, getting angry. He didn't want her fucking pity. He just wanted the dreams to stop. That was it. Was that so hard to accomplish!

"When Justin goes back to New York I have a hard time sleeping," he said absently.

He wasn't really thinking clearly but he felt the need to keep moving, to keep talking. So he paced, seeing Lindsay in her bed, watching him, but not really seeing her. She was there, just in the corner of his eye, but like a ghost. He could easily pretend he was just talking to himself. Not that talking to Lindsay was bad. He trusted her – like he trusted Justin. Like he used to trust Michael before they had one too many fallouts. Now, trusting Michael came with risk. Michael liked to talk – Lindsay and Justin could both keep their fucking mouths shut.

"It's the same few dreams, over and over," he scratched his head, his face contorting as the images flashed before his mind's eye. Justin grinning, laughing. Justin lifeless and bleeding. Justin covered in blood, tied to a gurney. Justin in a coma. Wondering for three days, would he live?

The nightmares were always about the bashing, but Brian was certain he'd reconciled his guilt over that event long ago. He'd always thought he had. Sure, the dreams would pop up now and again, particularly when something stressful was going on – like a cancer diagnosis, or a 2,000 mile separation. But then they'd disappear just as quickly and seemingly at random.

"What is it?" Lindsay's tone was cautious.

Brian looked directly at her, then.

"The bashing," he blurted and he felt a strange vindication when she flinched at the hard edge to his words.

"Oh," was all she said.

Yeah. Oh. Brian hated that fucking Chris Hobbs was still affecting him this way. He'd hoped, when he'd exacted his revenge on the judge that his unresolved anger over the violent act and Hobbs' non-sentence would dissipate. For awhile it did. Then – when Justin left with Ethan it all came back, and it continued to come back over the last few years. It would appear it was unresolved after all.

Brian collapsed on the bed and lying sideways, he put his head on Lindsay's lap.

"I don't know what to do," he sighed, rubbing his hands over his face.

"You have to deal with it," Lindsay replied, "maybe you need to go talk to someone."

Brian huffed a laugh. If only she knew that Marty had told him the same thing.

"I never needed that before."

That was a lie, though. He might not have gone for therapy, or psycho-analysis, but that didn't mean he hadn't needed it. Particularly when he was younger.

"You know what's different now, don't you?" Lindsay asked, a tiny smile playing on her lips.

Brian shrugged, looking up at his friend's face.

"You're not numbing yourself; drinking and drugging until you can't feel anything. You're being forced to face your emotions and I'm guessing there's a lot of them that are demanding attention. Not the least of which is all the shit you went through with Justin over the years," Lindsay stroked Brian's hair.

She was right. He knew it. But knowing it, and admitting to needing help were two different things and Brian wasn't ready to make that admission. He wasn't ready to admit he had a weakness, a flaw that needed fixing – one that he couldn't fix himself.

"Fuck," he whispered, rolling on his side and staring blankly down Lindsay's legs to the end of her bed, overwhelmed.

* * *

Brian immersed himself in his work the following week – spending long days in the office. Gus had the week off school, and Lindsay had decided to start drawing and painting herself, so they spent many of their days in the small makeshift studio.

Brian still spent most of his nights sleeplessly. But now that he was being forced to face all the things from his past that he had previously, unceremoniously shoved back into the depths of his memory, the nightmares were lessening; still there, but less harsh somehow.

Still, he resisted making any move to talk to a professional. He wasn't sure that was something he would ever want to do. Hell, he'd handled everything for years with no problems…maybe not in the healthiest way possible, but he handled it. The problem was, drinking and drugs were only good for numbing pain for so long. And now that he'd mostly abandoned his old lifestyle and Liberty Avenue, he no longer had that outlet. Nothing but having Justin there in his arms would work now. Nothing but pressing his body, hot and sweaty and naked against Justin would abate any of the old emotional baggage. It was extremely frustrating because all Brian wanted to do was move on. He was tired of living in the past and as long as those damn nightmares persisted he knew he'd never be free of all that shit.

Justin arrived back in Pittsburgh Thanksgiving morning. He took the train from New York City and was walking in the door at Debbie's just after 11am.

He was swarmed immediately, by Jennifer, Debbie, and Emmett. Everyone else held back, smiling and offering him their congratulations. Brian had told them of Justin's art show when he'd arrived that morning, finally explaining the reason Justin had been traveling back and forth to New York so much. He left the bigger announcement for Justin to make, though.

As they sat down at the table, squashed together like an oddly mismatched extended family would be, barely fitting even though the living room had been cleared of furniture and the dinner spread was set out in the larger room, Justin made his announcement.

Brian, knowing what was coming simply smirked, his arm around Justin's shoulders. He watched the faces of his friends – his family – as Justin invited all of them to the opening of the show, December 22nd, in New York City. Everyone started talking at once, excitedly, and just as Debbie opened her mouth to no doubt voice her concerns about getting affordable accommodations in the city just a week before what was undoubtedly the biggest tourism draw to that city, New Years Eve, Justin spoke once again.

"And we," he indicated between he and Brian, "have rented out a large brownstone house just a few blocks from the gallery, for all of you to stay for the entire weekend."

"Oh my God, Sunshine!" Debbie burst into tears then, grinning madly.

"Christmas in New York City!" Michael grinned, meeting Brian's gaze and nodding his appreciation.

"You two," Jennifer said then, her eyes shining as he beamed at Brian and Justin.

"Okay, enough," Brian grumbled. It was only for show, though. It made him incredibly happy to see everyone so excited.

"Yes, let's eat," Debbie clapped her hands together before turning to Carl with the carving knife so he could do the honors.

Eight hours later Brian was leading Justin out of Debbie's, anxious to get the other man back to the loft so he could fuck his brains out. He'd been sporting a partial-woody all afternoon and being so close to Justin, yet not being able to touch him or kiss him how he really wanted too was making him crazy with desire and finally, he could no longer withstand the ache in his groin. There were too many damn people in Deb's house to have a surreptitious rendezvous in the bathroom. Plus, Brian had too much respect for Debbie to do that in her house. Maybe in his younger years but not know.

Shit, he really was growing up.

Lindsay had left hours earlier, Gus and JR in tow, gone to her parents for the remainder of the weekend which gave Brian the opportunity to spend as much time as he wanted and needed with Justin. It was nice, knowing he didn't have to rush home to take care of Gus, or Lindsay. Not that he minded it; not most of the time. But having the freedom to lie in bed all day, or fuck Justin on the couch in the middle of the afternoon, was enticing.

When Lindsay had told Brian she intended to eventually move out – he'd first been scared, and then disappointed but the longer he thought about it, the more it seemed like a good idea. He'd miss Gus, definitely, but since the moment he'd been born Brian had never assumed he'd have a full-time role in raising him. He'd never given a single thought to what it would be like to have a child with him, day and night, every day, forever. When the accident happened and he was forced into that role it hadn't been awful, in fact it had been and continued to be wonderful. But the things Brian had to give up to live that life had been things he hadn't wanted to give up – not at that moment anyway. He wondered if he'd be drawn back into his old lifestyle whenever Lindsay left. He tended to doubt it – and after all he'd been out of it for so long and really, Justin was all the man he really ever needed – still, he wondered.

"What's on your mind?" Justin's fingers traced lazy circles on Brian's chest.

They were lying on the bed in the loft after a long, strenuous round two. Round one had been rough and fast and up against the door; round two had been slow and careful and immensely satisfying. Brian, who simply couldn't curb the craving for a cigarette after sex, chewed on his lower lip as he considered Justin's question. Justin had always been able to sense when Brian wasn't completely there, and now was no different. If Brian didn't love the little twat so much he might find his insights into his psyche annoying, and even frightening.

"Just thinking," Brian responded, bringing his hand up to grasp Justin's, pressing the other man's palm against his chest; over his heart.

"Always a dangerous sign," Justin laughed and Brian just shook his head.

"Fuck off," he said softly, playfully.

They were quiet for awhile, just lying there together.

"Hey," Justin's head was up now and he was looking at Brian with some concern on his face, "are you okay?"

"Yeah," Brian murmured, lifting his head to press a soft, chaste kiss to Justin's swollen lips before he raised his hand to cup Justin's cheek. Justin's skin was soft and smooth under his touch and he felt the blood-flow increase to his cock as he stared at the other man.

Brian was okay – for the most part – and he was certain he'd only get more okay as time went on.


	23. Save the Last Dance For Me, Part I

"What do you say to taking over fifty-one percent ownership of Babylon," Brian said absently, scrolling through his emails at work and taking care of some last minute things before he left with Lindsay and Gus for New York in a few days.

Ted was sitting opposite him, helping him finalize Kinnetik business for the year, and helping him get all the end of year numbers crunched. Brian was officially closing the offices the few days before Christmas, and the entire week between Christmas and New Year's. In addition to giving his staff what he thought were very generous bonuses for their hard work (20% of their monthly salary), he was also giving them the time off, paid. They all knew the gifts of the bonus and extra days off were not only to acknowledge what they'd done for Kinnetik in 2005, but to inspire them to greater heights in 2006. Brian expected nothing short of brilliance from all of them.

"What?" Brian glanced over his computer screen to see Ted looking at him curiously.

"I'm asking you if you'd like to be the majority owner of Babylon."

Ted stared, his mouth hanging slightly open as he looked to have trouble processing the words.

"Are you joking?" he finally asked and Brian just shook his head.

"You've done wonders running the place. I thought you'd like to make it more official, and earn a hell of a lot more cash for all the work you already do," Brian added with a smirk. He leaned back in his office chair and watched as Ted did the mental mathematics and ran all the possible scenarios in his head.

It was true – after the reopening, when Brian had handed over the day to day operations to Ted, the club had flourished. Brian was still involved in making decisions about hiring and when they planned promotions or themed nights he always offered his opinion – but the club was really Ted's at this point. Hell, Brian would sell it outright if he didn't feel some sense of pride in the ownership. Plus, he liked the income it provided him. Thanks to Babylon, he could afford to keep Britin, and the loft, and still live very, very comfortably. Plus, Brian would feel more at ease knowing Ted was monetarily invested in making the club a success – not that he'd ever given Brian a reason to think he wasn't – but still…

"Well," Ted nodded, "yeah!"

"Good," Brian grinned, "I took the liberty of having Gene draw up some papers. We'll meet and look them over in January."

Cynthia walked in then, the day's incoming mail in her hands.

"So if you don't need anything else I'm going to take off," she smiled at Brian as she dropped the stack of envelopes and magazines on his desk.

Brian sighed quietly as he stared at it. He was so ready to get the hell out of there and really didn't feel like opening and reading one more impersonal, pre-printed, business oriented Christmas Card. He'd actually taken the time to write out personal messages to all his clients for the season – was it so hard to expect that in return?

"Go," Brian indicated with his head as he pulled the mail towards him, "have fun in Tahiti with Calvin."

Sticking his tongue in his cheek he met the narrowed eyes of his assistant. She just shook her head as she smirked at him.

"It's _Kevin_. And I will," she replied pointedly with the trademark sass that had first attracted her to Brian when she's been a young intern at Ryder, "And _you_ have fun in New York with Justin."

Brian bit back a smile as Cynthia lightly tossed her hair, turning to leave.

"Merry Christmas, Ted," Cynthia said as she walked out of Brian's office.

The office was empty – officially closed until January 2, 2006. After a catered lunch (courtesy of Emmett) Brian had sent his staff home. Only he, Ted, and Cynthia had remained. Now it was just he and Ted.

"Okay, well I think we're all set for the year," Ted shut his binder, stood from his chair, and moved towards the door.

"So I guess I'll see you in New York in a few days."

"Yeah, see ya," Brian said absently, his attention suddenly drawn to a handwritten note stuffed inside the Christmas Card that had been sent to Kinnetik from Sutton Brewery.

He didn't hear Ted leave.

After the successful launch of the White Water Pale Ale account, Brian's contact with Sam Fairfield had been limited to a few phone calls and two short visits. And after Brian's final test came back negative, Sam had withdrawn almost completely. Brian wasn't too torn up over it – he liked Sam well enough but he served as a constant reminder of how badly he'd almost screwed his whole life. Brian wasn't lamenting not talking with him as much as he used too – and when they did chat it was almost always limited to strictly business talk. Still Brian owed Sam; it was because of the other man that Brian had actually paused to think about if he really wanted Justin out of his life. He had Sam to thank for forcing him to examine his priorities and realize he was so very close to making the biggest mistake of his life.

Holding the small postcard embossed with the Sutton Brewery logo, Brian read, than reread the words scrawled across the raised surface.

_Merry Christmas Brian. I hope you find yourself surrounding by those you love, and who love you. I wanted to let you know I have appreciated your kindness and friendship (such as it was) to me. Jake and I are doing really well, which is surprising after everything we went through to get to this point. Sometimes I'm so sad at how everything played out but then I look at Jake and I can't help but feel glad to have a second chance with him. We are both taking meds, and we both have undetectable levels. Certainly something to celebrate!_

_Take care of yourself, and don't ever let Justin go again,_

_Sam_

Brian didn't know whether to laugh or cry or both. So Sam and Jake were happy again – and no detectable virus levels? He actually felt glad for them. Sam was a good guy, and didn't deserve what had happened to him – though really, no one deserved HIV. Brian slipped the handwritten note into his jacket pocket and with one more cursory glance through the rest of the mail he shut down his computer and left, knowing it'd all be there waiting for him when he returned.

* * *

After Thanksgiving, time seemed to speed up at a frenetic pace. Justin didn't return to New York again – instead he was preoccupied with finishing two more paintings for the show. He spent all day, and many times most of the night, in the room Brian had hastily retrofitted as an arts and crafts room for Gus. Justin seemed to work okay in the space, but Brian knew it wasn't ideal. The lighting was bad and there wasn't much space for him to move around. Thankfully Gus was back in school in the weeks leading up to their trip to New York, so Justin could work through the day undisturbed, for the most part.

Watching Justin struggle to finish his works in that inadequate space forced Brian to start to make plans for the studio he wanted to have built. He met with a few contractors in those weeks, soliciting bids. After consulting with a few local artists about orientation, design, and gathering as many details about what types of things were most desirable, he scheduled construction to begin in January – barring any blizzards or deep freezes.

The studio space would be a 25'x25' open room with 15' ceilings. The entire thing would be elevated on stilts about three feet off the ground, with floor to ceiling windows on all four sides and four large skylights in the roof so that all the natural light desired could filter in. The windows would be double-paned and have remote controlled coverings that could be raised and lowered at the press of a button, for when shadows or darkness were desired. In addition to the necessary trappings like a sink (Brian was putting in two), adequate countertop and storage space for supplies, Brian was also having a bed built into the wall so Justin could crash in the space if he needed to. The structure would be built about 100 feet from the back of the house, where the gently sloping lawn flattened out slightly before dropping again to the small stream that flowed through the back of the property. It would be close enough to be convenient even in bad weather, but not so close that the house would impede or obstruct any views of the expanse of forest that spread out from the house in all directions. Brian was giddy with excitement, and planned to wrap the plans, the concept photos and list of amenities into a large box for Justin to open at Christmas.

Christmas. For the first time in…well…ever, Brian was excited for the holiday. He vaguely remembered a few years as a child, feeling anticipation and excitement over the thought of fat, jolly Santa bringing him all the things he'd ever wanted, but after two disappointing years of getting nothing on his list, or anything very exciting at all, dear old Jack had crushed Brian's dreams by informing him that Santa wasn't real, and that he needed to grow the fuck up.

Christmases after that were nothing more than a long couple days where his dad drank too much and his mother bitched more than usual and Brian simply wished for the school break to be over so he could get away from his family. It wasn't until he met Michael that he saw how a real family Christmas could be celebrated. Through high school and college Brian would routinely crash the Novotny's Christmas celebrations, and even though he only ever had one or two presents under their fake, plastic Christmas tree he found it fascinating and exciting to watch everyone else open gifts. His parents could have cared less if he were home for Christmas – aside from making sure he went to church with everyone – they didn't ask or harp on him when he would disappear for the two days. After college Brian stopped celebrating the holiday altogether. What was the point?

Brian was determined to make this Christmas as special as possible for Gus, and though he still struggled with the domesticity of the whole concept he, Justin, and Lindsay took Gus to pick out a Christmas tree (a live one!), and they all participated in the decorating of said tree. Though they wouldn't be in the house for the actual holiday, Brian still wanted Gus to have as normal a Christmas as he could. Though certainly one of the most hetero things he'd participated in, Brian enjoyed most of the night. Justin played some old Bing Crosby Christmas music and the hung ornaments. Everyone was surprised when Gus put an angel ornament on the tree and proclaimed it was Mel and she would be spending Christmas with them, even if she was just an inanimate object hanging on the tree.

Brian caught Lindsay's gaze and though she smiled, it didn't touch her eyes – which were glistening with unshed tears. Brian wondered if things would ever get better for her – and he pulled Justin into his arms then. The thought of losing that, of losing him, was too much. He didn't know how Lindsay was managing to get through the days because the longer Justin was around and the more they settled into a routine together the more Brian knew he wouldn't be able to live if Justin wasn't alive. Being with him or not ultimately didn't matter – just knowing Justin was alive was everything to Brian.

As Christmas drew nearer, Brian and Lindsay started to prepare for their trip. Justin had returned to New York the day after they'd put up the tree; he had to prepare for the show, get his "look" together and get his interview sound bites ready – at least according to Jaelynn. That was her reason for calling him back a few days early.

Brian immediately missed his calming presence in the days leading up to his departure with Linds and Gus, but he was so busy with Kinnetik business and pre-emptively putting together new contracts for Babylon that would split ownership of the business 51/49 in Ted's favor that he almost didn't have time to miss Justin. Except at night; he always missed Justin at night.

It didn't help Brian's sleepless, restless nights that the man who had trashed Justin's studio had been released from jail at the end of November. It took all of Brian's willpower not to forbid Justin to go back – but as Justin had said when Brian tried to argue if it was wise to go back alone, the guy didn't know where he was staying, or working, so the chances of anything happening were slim to none. Still, Brian felt additionally anxious because of it.

The day before they were to leave for New York, Brian accompanied Lindsay and Gus to the cemetery to visit Melanie's grave. It was the first time either of them had seen it, and there was a light dusting of snow on the ground, the expanse of the cemetery a glistening white. The snow was sparkling like tiny diamonds. Even Brian thought it was quite pretty.

Gus talked to his 'momma' for a few minutes, leaving her one of his Lego toys and a drawing he'd done before Brian led him away to give Lindsay some time alone.

Brian tried to keep an eye on Lindsay, ready to go back for her if she appeared too upset. He was worried about her. They hadn't talked about Melanie since that night in her room, and Brian wasn't sure how to pose the question to her if she was okay. She seemed okay – but then again she'd seemed okay before that night as well.

Gus was holding Brian's hand as he jumped with both feet through the snow. Brian was walking beside him, glancing over his shoulder occasionally to see how Lindsay was doing.

"Daddy?"

"Hmmmm?"

"Are you and mommy going to die like momma did?"

Brian's head turned quickly and he looked down at Gus.

"What?" Brain stopped walking, ending Gus's jumping game.

"Will you die like momma did? In a car crash?"

Shit. Just when Brian thought he had the parent thing down, his kid goes and asks him something like this…where the hell was Marty when he needed him!

"I don't know, Sonny boy," Brian said gently, crouching down so he was eye level with Gus.

"I wish I could say no, but I can't," Brian added. Gus's wide, brown eyes stared back at him and Brian could see him trying to make sense of the answer.

"I don't want you to," he finally said, his expression worried.

Brian wanted to smile because he certainly didn't want to die in a car accident either, but he didn't think Gus would understand his meaning if he did, so he bit the inside of his cheeks to stop.

"I don't want me to, too," Brian teased softly.

"Mommy cries sometimes when we draw," Gus said then, staring down at his feet as he kicked the loose, dry snow revealing the brownish-green grass beneath it.

"She misses your momma," Brian said and Gus sighed.

"I know. I miss her too."

"Gus," Brian gently cupped his son's chin with his gloved hand, tilting his head up so he was looking at him, "your mommy loves you very much. She's so happy you are here with us, and safe. JR too."

Gus nodded, but his expression was uncertain.

"And I love you," Brian said pointedly, "you're my Sonny boy."

"I love you too daddy," Gus stepped forward then and in a gesture that caught Brian completely off guard, Gus planted a soft kiss on his cheek before he wrapped his tiny arms around his neck and squeezed.

Brian laughed then, softly, while hugging his son back. Arms still around Gus, Brian stood and started back towards Lindsay, carrying the little boy. He wasn't anything he'd said had alleviated the residual fears or questions Gus still had regarding losing Lindsay or him, but he hoped it had helped in some small way.

* * *

The following day Brian, Lindsay and Gus boarded the train to New York City. Brian had wanted to fly but Lindsay was uncomfortable with the idea and when she'd suggested the train Gus had been over the moon excited. So – the train it was. The time it took to travel was almost the same as flying, with getting to the airport early and such; and Brian had to admit, watching Gus marvel at the train station and the train cars had been worth the little extra time it would take them to get to the city.

Brian wasn't sure when or how the others were getting to the city; that was up to them to figure out. He'd done enough, dropping a significant chunk of change to rent the house for them all to stay in. And he and Justin and Lindsay and Gus would all be staying at a hotel. The house wasn't accessible for Lindsay's chair, and Brian figured she'd like some privacy and a place away from the madness of their extended "family". Brian knew he wanted privacy!

Brian was anxious to see Justin again. He'd only been gone for three days, but every time he had to go back to the city it felt like an eternity until Brian saw him again. It seemed the old adage was true, and absence does make the heart grow fonder. Brian couldn't remember ever feeling such yearning for the other man in all their years together. Maybe when he'd been away in Los Angeles, but Brian had also done his best to numb the pain of that separation by drinking and fucking as much as he could. Things were different now, and he kind of liked it.

The anticipation of it and then the feeling he got when he finally did see Justin again after a few days apart…it was Brian's newest addiction and as the train inched closer and closer to their destination he could feel his excitement at seeing Justin again, growing. He felt as giddy as Gus acted.

When they finally rolled into Penn Station, Brian was on edge, anxious to wrap Justin in his arms and kiss the shit out of him. He didn't even care what anyone else in the station might think. They were the last to disembark though, because of Lindsay and her chair, which only made Brian's desire for Justin stronger. By the time they were off the train he was nearly to the point of wanting to simply rip Justin's clothes off him and fuck him in the middle of the terminal. He wouldn't, but damn he couldn't wait much longer.

Brian saw him first – he was looking at the Arrivals board, chewing on his finger like he sometimes did when he was distracted or thinking.

Brian laughed, causing Gus to look up at him.

"What's so funny daddy?" he asked.

"Look up ahead. Who do you see?" Brian, pushing Lindsay through the crowds, winked down at Gus.

Gus, walking beside Lindsay, one hand on her chair, looked ahead of them. Brian could see him searching and when he spotted him he shrieked out loud, eliciting wide-eyed stares from the people around them.

"Justin!"

Gus then released his hold on Lindsay's chair and sprinted towards Justin. At Gus's yell, he'd turned towards them and grinned the biggest, brightest "Sunshine" grin Brian had seen in months. It made his heart ache with want as he hurried his pace.

Justin crouched down low to envelope Gus in a big hug, lifting him from the ground as Brian and Lindsay finally caught up. Brian grinned at Justin as the other man met his eyes over Gus's shoulders.

"Put me down!" Gus laughed, kicking his legs.

"Sorry. I forgot you're too old for bear hugs," Justin said, lowering Gus to the ground.

"I'm not too big," Gus said defiantly and the three adults all laughed.

"Hi Lindsay," Justin leaned down to hug Lindsay, kissing her cheek before he stood up and once again met Brian's gaze.

A small played on his lips and it was all Brian could do not to roll his eyes.

Setting the brake on the wheels of Lindsay's chair, Brian wordlessly moved around her to grasp Justin's face in both his hands. Justin's eyes widened slightly in surprise before his hands came up to rest on top of Brian's.

"Hi," Brian said softly before pressing his mouth to Justin's.

"Hi," Justin panted in reply when Brian finally pulled away.

Thirty minutes later, Lindsay and Gus were getting settled in their suite, and Brian and Justin were getting settled in their suite. Settled being relative.

As soon as the door had shut behind the bellhop, Brian had turned and begun stripping Justin of his coat and scarf and making quick business of his own winter over clothes. Then they were pressing their bodies together, their hands on each other as they each tried to strip the other of their shirts and pants. Finally, Brian broke contact and with no care to flying buttons or tearing seams, aggressively pulled his shirt off and kicked his pants halfway across the room.

"Fuck I've missed you," Brian panted as he buried his face in Justin's neck, inhaling the distinct scent of him. The last three days had felt like an eternity and all Brian wanted was to see and touch and feel Justin next to him, beneath him, beside him.

Justin's hands were on him; on his back, on his ass, on his chest, tweaking his nipples.

"Shut up and fuck me," Justin groaned and Brian felt Justin's hand grasp his cock, tugging at it. He let out a low moan against the soft, smooth skin of Justin's neck before he gently pushed the other man down on the sofa. Hovering over him he smiled when Justin reached out to the coffee table and presented a small tube of lube.

"Such a good boy scout," Brian murmured, accepting the lube and squeezing some on his hand before he worked one, then two, then three fingers into Justin.

"Always be prepared," Justin panted as he moved with Brian's fingers inside him, fucking him. A part of Brian wanted to see Justin come like this – with Brian's fingers in his ass – but when Justin begged for his cock, well, Brian couldn't, and wouldn't, deny him that pleasure.

* * *

They'd arrived on December 21st and after they'd rested (or in Brian and Justin's case, fucked) in the hotel for a few hours, Brian, Justin, Lindsay, and Gus went to dinner. As with the last time he'd come to New York, Brian had hired a car to take them around. He wasn't about to rely on cab drivers, and he knew Lindsay felt self-conscious and uncomfortable being in her chair anyway so why add to that with cabs. The hired car was just simpler. Brain did wish he could alleviate her nerves, but he knew better than most that no matter how helpful or how encouraging friends might be, she would only feel comfortable when she finally _let_ herself feel comfortable and no one could make it better just by telling her it was better. She seemed to relax as the evening wore on, and Brian was glad to see it. She asked Justin a bunch of questions about the show, and the gallery, and his new manager. Brian just listened, content to bask in the excitement Justin exhibited as he talked about his art.

After dinner, Brian had the car take them to Rockefeller Center where Gus was immediately taken by the giant Christmas tree. He begged Brian relentlessly to take him out on the ice skating rink and Brian promised later in the weekend to take Gus skating. When Gus insisted that Justin come too, Brian agreed it was only fair that Justin skate with them, eliciting a smirk from the other man. What Brian wished he hadn't seen was the brief look of disappointment that crossed Lindsay's face. He thought he could recall a time, back in college, when Lindsay used to skate quite frequently. No doubt she was struggling with no longer being physically able to do it.

Later that night, back at the hotel, Brian didn't let Justin rest, riding his ass three times, and letting Justin ride him once. When they finally succumbed to sleep around 4am, they were both well and truly sated, and Brian felt truly happy. The only thing that would make him even happier was if, after the show, Justin told him he was coming back to Britin to stay. No more back-and-forths to New York every month. He wasn't sure how likely the chance of that particular wish coming true was, but he hoped nonetheless – perfectly aware that he might be nursing some severe disappointment at the end of the trip.

The gang, the rest of the extended family arrived just after lunch on the 22nd. Brian and Justin went to the house to greet them all, while the car took Lindsay and Gus to Macy's so Gus could see Santa. Brian wasn't lamenting missing out on that particular event. He loved shopping and he'd fucked a mall Santa once in his early twenties, but he wasn't sure he wanted to brave Macy's just three days before Christmas, or be surrounded by hordes of children waiting to see Santa Clause.

Plus, since Lindsay was going to start looking for a new place to live, he thought it might be better for Gus if Brian stopped being present at every turn. It would lessen the separation anxiety they were both likely to feel, if they were both used to not spending all day of every day together. At least it sounded like a good plan – Brian wasn't necessarily too sure it would work out that way in the end.

The house Brian had rented everyone for the weekend was in Midtown Manhattan. It was a four story brownstone, only a few blocks from the Veritate Gallery, and belonged to one of Brian's more elite clients, Arthur Updike. Kinnetik had boosted the sales of the Updike vacuum cleaning system, quite steeply Brian was all too happy to add, and when Arthur offered him the use of the brownstone, Brian had accepted with no qualms.

The basement, or first floor, was a living area and kitchen, both large and containing state of the art appliances. The other three floors held the five bedrooms, each with its own full, private bath. The second floor – just off the entryway – also had a cozy den with big comfy chairs and floor to ceiling bookshelves that were stuffed with all sorts of books. The place was just big enough for the entire gang and Brian felt only a small twinge of guilt at making Michael and Ben share a room with their kids. Jennifer, who had come alone as Tucker couldn't get out of Christmas with his parents, would share with Molly.

Justin told Brian later that he thought his mother's relationship with Tucker might be nearing its end. Brian didn't respond – he'd noticed the string of pearls on Jennifer's neck and when he asked her about them she proudly boasted they were from Tucker. Brian didn't have the heart to burst Justin's bubble that maybe Tucker was actually going to be around for awhile longer.

Everyone had been gracious and thankful to Brian as he'd shown them around the house and instructed them on the few rules of the house. Brian wasn't worried, he knew Debbie would keep everyone in line.

As Brian and Justin left, needing to get ready for the show, Debbie had smothered Brian with kisses.

"You're a good man," she'd whispered in his ear before letting him go with a light slap to his cheek.

* * *

The Veritate Gallery was lit bright and colorful compared to the darkened storefronts and facades around it. Unlike some of the other well-known and respected galleries in the city, it wasn't surrounded by upscale restaurants and other similarly themed galleries. It was located on its own, on a quiet street. There was a 24-hour market on the corner and a barber shop, and travel agency, and a small bookstore between them. On the other side of the gallery was another bookstore, a lingerie boutique, and a law office. Across the street was a row of brownstones that looked just like all the other rows, and streets, of brownstones in the area.

The bright lights of the Christmas season gave the street a festive feel, and though Brian had been to the gallery once before he still felt like he was seeing it for the first time.

When they entered, Brian was introduced to the other artists in the show (he wondered if the one that had sucked off Justin was among them – though he certainly wasn't about to ask), and he met Justin's new agent and manager, Jaelynn Husted.

"So this is the famous boyfriend," she grinned at Brian, holding out her hand.

"I guess so," Brian grasped her hand and immediately knew she was a dyke.

She was young – Justin hadn't been wrong about that. Brian guessed maybe 25 or so. She was also tiny; very petite in form, with a short pixie style haircut that was dyed black as night. She had a tiny silver stud in her nose, and thin hoop in her eyebrow. By all appearances she looked quite unassuming, but her voice was resonant and Brian could tell she had a larger than life personality. Brian immediately liked her.

"You are on hell of an inspiration man," she laughed, "this kid does fucking awesome work and he says it's all because of you. So. Thank you."

Brian rolled his lips into his mouth and nodded. Glancing to Justin he saw the other man's neck and cheeks were flushed pink and Brian wrapped his arms around him pulling him into his chest.

"Don't get embarrassed Sunshine, I already know I'm your muse," he growled, pressing a kiss to Justin's hair.

"Fuck off," Justin said playfully, squirming out of Brian's embrace and lightly hitting his shoulder. "Asshole," he laughed.

"Okay. You know what to do tonight so before the people start arriving just double check everything is set up how you want it," Jaelynn's demeanor shifted and Brian saw her go from friendly and playful to hard-core manager in a second. He was impressed. Yeah, he liked her quite a lot.

Justin grabbed Brian's hand then and pulled him towards the far left wall where Brian could see Justin's works all displayed and lit. He recognized most of them; the one of him under the streetlight, the one of the night sky from the bedroom window, the one Justin had painted in Central Park. There were also a few he'd not seen, like one of Brian's profile. In it his eyes were a bright mix of amber and green and yellow while everything else was dark and shades of gray. Then there was one of a little boy and yellow dog, "Gus and Sunny" read the title card beneath it. And then there was the one of the two vaguely human shapes twisted and intertwined, one figure blonde and the other brunet. They were faceless and expressionless, the two bodies a blur of naked skin and it was impossible to tell what arm and leg belonged to what body. Still – the painting was laced with an eroticism that went straight to Brian's dick, and he stared at it for a very long time.

"Do you like it?"

Justin's voice was quiet, cautious, almost childlike as he seemed to yearn for Brian's approval.

"I fucking love it," Brian said, wishing he hadn't promised not to buy any more of Justin's works, taking note of the sold stickers on both the Central Park and the streetlight paintings.

"It's not for sale," Justin said and Brian looked down at him with an arched brow.

"I'm keeping it for myself," Justin smiled softly, turning his eyes back to the painting, "it's my favorite one I think."

Brian nodded and turned back to it again. He could see the tenderness and the love in the strokes of the brush – the figures made up of long, fluid lines while the background was a cacophony of short strokes and dabs in muted, dull colors. The two figures were most certainly the focus and by the lines of their impressionistic bodies being uninterrupted your eye was forced to focus on them.

"Okay everyone, doors are opening in five minutes!" Heath called out as he strode through the gallery with a glass of wine in hand.

"Do you want a drink before the masses descend and fight each other to the death over owning one of your works?" Brian smirked.

"Some soda water and lime please," Justin replied with a slight eye-roll.

"As you wish," Brian lifted Justin's hand and pressed a soft kiss to the palm, taking a moment to inhale the scent of him before he moved towards the bar.

* * *

The appeal of the Veritate Gallery to most people was that it wasn't pretentious. The staff didn't look down their noses at tourists who might wander in, curious, and they didn't pretend the art was more important than it was, that there was some secret hidden within that the general public just couldn't understand. Some of the pieces Heath liked to show were supremely simple, while other pieces were so complex and abstract that they became nearly unrelatable to most people. But that was what kept him in business, and what made his gallery one of the most successful in the city - because an art lover, whether casual or intense - could visit and undoubtedly find something to their liking. This carried over into the shows that the Gallery hosted including the one Justin was taking part in. It was reflected in the choice of decor the food and drink being served, and the music that played.

The first people to arrive were the press, the critics. Heath had set aside the first hour of the show for those art critics who chose to attend. As such, the night started off rather slow with a few notable (according to Justin) names milling about and asking him many of the same, fairly inane questions. Brian hung back and watched Justin work the critics. Most of them took to his natural charm right away – smiling at him and touching his arm and laughing a bit too loud and long at his dry sense of humor. And all of them, even the ones who couldn't seem to remove the sticks from up their asses, praised his works. Brian couldn't have felt prouder.

The doors opened to the public at 8pm, and as the clock neared that time and the critics started to take their leave, Justin decided to check out the other works in the show and Brian followed behind.

Brian found a lot of the other stuff pretty good - but in his opinion none of it held a candle to Justin's work. He was certainly biased, but none of the other artist's works stirred any emotional response in him - only Justin's pieces did that.

As they stood looking at a wall of landscapes and portraits that all looked somewhat the same, Brian cringed as a violin solo piece started playing on the sound system. He actively avoided Justin's look, and smiled to himself when something much more his style came on next, some Miles Davis jazz. Justin led him to another artist's area as the Davis song ended and an Usher song began. Brian had to suppress a laugh. This really was a show for all types, and all tastes.

"This one's really fascinating," Justin looked at Brian with a sparkle in his eye. "See how the artist layered the watercolor over the charcoal? The shadows look darker and deeper yet the lightness of the color brings some brightness to it. The emotional turmoil is certainly amplified. I have wanted to try this technique myself but haven't found the right inspiration."

Brain smirked, lowering his head to Justin's shoulder as he wrapped his arms around him from behind.

"I'll be happy to give you all the inspiration you might need, for as long as you might need it," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the spot just behind Justin's ear.

Brian didn't care for the piece in question; the shadows were too dark, too foreboding. There was no hope in it, not that Brian could see. And it wasn't that all of Justin's pieces were upbeat or colorful either because they weren't. He actually had a particularly troubling painting of blacks, grays and reds that made Brian extremely uncomfortable to look at. It was violent in its presentation, the angles too sharp and the red too bright against the dark background. For Brian, the shapes were too reminiscent of the night of the Prom and he had to wonder if somehow maybe Justin's subconscious was remembering, and channeling things from that night.

"I'll take you up on that later," Justin turned his head and kissed Brain softly.

The song changed then, and it took Brain several seconds to realize why it was so familiar to him but when he did, he felt his whole body react to the unexpected memories. His heart rate climbed rapidly as his breath caught in his throat and his stomach turned, threatening to empty its entire contents onto the Gallery floor.

"_you can dance, every dance with the guy who gives you the eye and let him hold you tight,_

_you can smile, every smile for the man who held your hand 'neath the pale moonlight,_

_but don't forget who's taking you home, or in whose arms you're gonna be,_

_so darling, save the last dance for me"_

"Brian?"

He heard Justin, and he could see him as he turned to face him. His face was no longer grinning and carefree but pale and concerned. Brian wanted to answer, to tell him he was alright but he couldn't speak. He opened his mouth to talk and no sound would come out. All he could see was Justin as he had been that night, so happy and joyful and full of life and love – and then bam. He was nothing but a lifeless form on the pavement. He just shook his head, trying to clear the images in his mind's eye.

"Brian? Shit!"

Brian felt Justin's hands on his arms, gently shaking him before they started moving up and down in what must have been an attempt at comfort.

Justin didn't remember the song, Brian knew that for a fact. He'd only heard it once, on the day Brain and Daphne had tried to jog his memory after the bashing. Brian was certain he would not recognize it now and even if he did he'd have no reason to react to it. Why would he? He had no recollection of the dance and only a vague recollection of what came after. But Brian remembered it all – and after battling with his dreams of that night for the last few months, hearing the song was like a sucker punch to the gut, stirring too many emotions. It was too fucking much.

There were people starting to stream into the gallery, the sound of chatter and laughter growing louder by the minute and Brian was thankful. As the noise level increased the song faded further into the background.

Justin led him over to the bar where Brain heard him ask for a Chivas-Regal. Then Justin was pressing a glass into Brian's hand and telling him to drink. So he did. Warmth spread through him like wildfire as the whisky slid smoothly down his throat. Finally, he felt his body start to relax.

"Are you okay?" Justin was touching his face, pressing his hand to his cheek, his neck, carding his fingers through his hair.

"Yeah," Brain nodded, regaining more of his composure as the song ended and the music changed again to something classical and Beethovenish in style.

"Yes," he reiterated with a shaky smile.

Justin cocked his eyebrow, "Want to tell me what that was all about?"

Brain laughed humorlessly, "No. not really."

"Brian," Justin sighed but Brian just shook his head, he could hear Debbie coming in the door, her laughter and exclamations preceding her, echoing through the entire gallery.

"Later," he smiled again, more confidently this time. Turning Justin by his shoulders towards the growing throngs of people he gave him a gentle push.

"Your public awaits."

"You're going to talk to me one way or another you know," Justin said over his shoulder, heading across the gallery to where his pieces were on display.

"Yeah," Brian murmured, watching as Debbie and Jennifer smothered Justin with hugs and kisses, and as all of their friends praised his works. The lad really was a fucking genius.

Lindsay rolled over to Brian with a smile on her face.

"This is amazing, isn't it!" she exclaimed, asking for a white wine from the bartender.

"Sure is," Brian replied a little more stiffly than he'd intended.

"Is everything okay?" Lindsay looked up at him with a questioning expression.

"Everything is great," Brian smiled broadly, "why wouldn't it be?"

Molly, who had come with Jennifer just to see Justin's works, left roughly an hour later to return to the brownstone. She and Hunter were taking turns watching Gus and JR and going to the art show. Brian, bored with standing around and watching Justin make small talk with strangers, decided to walk Molly back to the brownstone. Truth be told, he was still reeling from hearing the song and could use some fresh air and to stretch his legs a bit. Plus, Molly was far too young to walk the streets of New York City by herself at night.

On the way to the brownstone they talked a little about the art, and then Molly proceeded to ask Brian's advice with some boy trouble she was having. Brian wasn't sure how to handle the situation – his way of dealing with boy trouble was certainly not right for a young teenage girl. He didn't think either Jennifer or Justin would thank him for telling Molly to just fuck the asshole and then dump him. So he told her she should ask Justin – he was better at that sort of thing. Which was very true – he'd dealt with Brian all this time after all.

Seeing Molly safely to the door of the brownstone, he waited outside for Hunter and the two of them turned and headed back to the gallery. Hunter, in his first year of college, gave Brian the low-down on college life. Brian could recall how carefree and wild his college years had been, and it was only after he remembered Hunter's HIV status that he stopped himself from giving the kid a hard time for studying more than fucking around. So they talked business classes, and Brian found himself advising the littlest hustler, who was no longer a hustler, on what classes he should take and avoid at Carnegie-Mellon.

It had been roughly thirty minutes since Brian and Molly had left the gallery, and Brian expected the show to be in full swing when he and Hunter got back. The wine and champagne should be flowing freely and the people should be singing Justin's praises up and down the sidewalk.

He was not prepared to come back to the gallery and see an NYPD police car with its lights flashing parked in front of the place.

Heart leaping into his throat, Brian rushed towards the gallery, pushing through the small crowd that had gathered outside and barely hearing Hunter calling after him. As he burst through the crowd and came up on the entrance of the gallery he saw two cops manhandling out the door a short, graying, older man who was crying and yelling over and over, "but I just want to be close to you!"

It took only one glance inside the front window of the gallery where he saw Justin, with Drew and Ben on either side of him, all three wearing somber expressions, before Brian lost all semblance of control.

"You fucking piece of shit!" he yelled as he lunged forward, hands clenched in fists that swung wildly and landed solidly against soft skin. He thought he heard people yelling his name but he couldn't be sure. All he knew was he had to make this fucker pay – and it wasn't until Brian felt strong hands grasping his arms and pulling him back that he saw several of his punches had landed on his intended target. The man was sporting a bloody nose and was hunched over gasping for breath. One cop still had his hands on him, but the other cop had his hands on Brian.

"Settle down now or you'll be going in with him," the cop growled at Brian who was struggling to get out of his grip.

"Brian, stop," Ben's steady voice came from Brian's other side and when he looked over and saw the gentle blue eyes of his best friend's husband all the fight went out of him. The adrenaline rush faded and Brian staggered for a moment, unsure on his feet before he felt Ben place his arm around him to help hold him up.

"I've got him officer, thank you," Ben said and Brian watched as the cop nodded once before letting go of Brian and helping his partner put the other man into the back of the car.

The gathered crowd dispersed as the cop car took off, and after a few minutes Brian shrugged out of Ben's grasp.

"I'm fine," he said acidly, to which Ben just nodded.

Inside the gallery Justin was still standing by the window, looking out at Brian with a concerned look on his face. Opening and closing his fists to gauge how much damage he'd done to himself (none, it would seem), Brian looked to the ground as he slowly walked back inside.

"You are going to tell me what the fuck is going on with you," Justin said as Brian approached him.

Nodding, Brian pulled Justin into an embrace and he didn't let go for nearly five minutes.

* * *

The man's name was Tim Parks. Apparently he lived in Midtown and had seen the posters for the art show and recognizing Justin from his photo on the poster. He had come in just moments after Brian had left, and no one had noticed him until he threw a full glass of red wine on Justin's Central Park painting. That was when Drew and Ben had grabbed him, and Heath had called the police. When Justin saw him and explained it was the same man who had broken into his studio and trashed all his works and supplies, it took Michael, Ted, and Emmett to restrain Debbie and Jennifer.

The painting wasn't ruined, thankfully. Heath had removed it immediately following Tim's arrest, and it was being sent to a restoration house that night. He'd told them all they were lucky it had been red wine as there were a lot harder stains to clean than that.

The party continued for a few more hours, but for Brian, Justin and their friends and family things had taken a downward turn. It wasn't long after all the excitement that Debbie and Carl called it a night, followed quickly by Michael, Ben, and Hunter. Emmett and Drew, and Ted and Blake stayed a bit longer, as did Jennifer. Of all of them, she was the most horrified about the events, and Brian thought she was even more shaken up than he was that the guy had found Justin yet again. Of course she was his mother so it made sense. Still, Brian and Jennifer stayed glued to Justin's side the rest of the night.

As the night started to wind down, Jaelynn lamented the fact that the press and critics had already left, saying drama like this could add to Justin's mystique and allure as an artist. Brian bit back scathing words – she couldn't know the torment they'd both endured over the years; all in the name of drama. She didn't know that attention like that was the last thing either of them wanted, or needed, or sought.

Later, Brian saw Lindsay talking to Jaelynn and when the younger woman looked over towards where Brian stood, only feet away from Justin, she had a horrified look on her face. For once, Brian wasn't upset at Lindsay's meddling – he was glad she was there to explain what he couldn't. Because if he talked about any of it he was afraid he'd fly off in another fit of rage. At that thought he almost laughed – it would seem the likeness was accurate this time.

At the closing of the show, Justin had sold all but one of his paintings, and had gotten offers from two other galleries to put up some of his works. Even with the incident, Justin had had a successful night. Saying goodbye to their friends, Brian, Justin, and Lindsay took the hired car back to their hotel. Gus was staying over at the brownstone with his sister and everyone, so Lindsay had her suite to herself for the night. Telling Brian she was looking forward to a long, hot shower she bid them goodnight in the hallway.

Across the hall, Brian opened the suite door and gently guided Justin inside. Since they'd left the gallery Brian hadn't been able to stop touching Justin. As they'd stood outside and said their goodnights he'd kept his hand on his back. On the short car ride he'd rested his hand on Justin's knee, and as they'd come into the hotel he'd once again kept his hand pressed against Justin's back. It was his way of reassuring himself that Justin was okay – that no one had hurt him.

When the door shut behind him, Brian breathed a sigh of relief. Sliding the security bolt closed he turned to follow the hallway into the living room, sliding his jacket off his shoulders in the process, but an upset blonde stood in his way.

"Okay. Now is when you tell me what the fuck is going on with you," he said.

"Let me get a drink," Brian tried to push past Justin but the other man would not have it. He grasped Brian's bicep and spun him back around.

"Brian-,"

"I said, let me get a drink first," Brian snapped. He immediately regretted his tone as Justin dropped his hand and took a step back from him.

Opening his mouth to apologize, Brian just sighed. Turning he entered the suite, throwing his jacket onto the sofa and pulling open the mini-bar he twisted the top off a Jim Beam shooter and downed the thing from the bottle, forgoing the glass altogether.

Brian heard Justin hang his coat up in the closet by the door before he came into view. He paused just inside the room, watching him with a look Brian couldn't place, but it made him nervous. After a few seconds Justin moved into the room and Brian heard him sit down on the sofa.

"Will you talk to me, please," Justin said, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper and Brian was thrown back in time to just before his surgery, when Justin had once before asked him to talk to him – to tell him what was wrong. He hadn't done it then and though he really, really didn't want to do it now, he also wanted things to be different this time. He wanted things to be better – to be honest. And if he were truthful with himself, Brian thought he just might need Justin's support to get over his fucking guilt issues.

"I know that Tim showing up was a bit awkward-," Justin added, but was cut off when Brian spun around and laughed bitterly.

"Awkward? That's a fucking joke. That was more than awkward, Justin. That guy is a fucking nutcase, and he could have and maybe would have hurt you," Brian twisted the lid off another Jim Beam shooter.

"You know those bottles are like twenty bucks each," Justin said blithely.

"So fucking what," Brian shrugged, setting the empty shooter down and pacing the room. He needed to loosen the fuck up if he had any hopes of trying to explain to Justin how fucked in the head he felt.

"You've been acting strange for months now," Justin said after a long silence. "It's like you're you, but not quite you. I can't help thinking that something's wrong and you're not telling me. Like before."

Brian shook his head, "I told you there's no cancer. I'm fine. Physically."

"Okay. And what does that mean? What's wrong? Just fucking tell me, Jesus!" Justin stood and spoke slowly, enunciating every word, ending with an exasperated sigh that caused Brian to smile.

Brian had wanted to avoid this. At all costs he'd wanted to avoid this but he'd known in the end he wouldn't be able too. He couldn't hide something like this from Justin – obviously – since he'd already noticed Brian was a little bit off, a little bit different. He simply didn't want to have to tell Justin that for months he'd been dreaming, almost every night, about the bashing, or the bombing, or the stalker. He didn't want to have to tell Justin that a new nightmare had started recurring – one in which Justin is kidnapped, raped, murdered, and left naked in the streets for the crows to eat. That one was the worst because it was what Brian feared most every time Justin came back to the city alone. It wasn't a rational fear, but one brought on by that fucking stalker and now it was at the forefront of Brian's mind every time Justin left their home for New York. Brian couldn't help but imagine dangerous men who would want to hurt him lurking in every fucking shadow.

"I'm just…I'm not…shit," Brian raked his hands through his hair in frustration.

"Fuck it!" he yelled, seeing Justin jump a little at the outburst.

Brian stopped pacing and stared at Justin, willing his frayed nerves to relax. It wasn't Justin's fault – none of it. Brian had no right to get mad at him for asking. He had to calm the fuck down.

"I don't like asking for help," Brian started and Justin just raised his eyebrows slightly as if to say, 'no shit, Sherlock'.

"I don't like admitting weakness," he continued, drawing strength from the man staring back at him with no judgment or ridicule in his expression, just concern and love.

"I'm not okay," he finally admitted.

"No kidding," Justin said, but there was no meanness in his tone; just worry and concern.

"So tell me what it is," Justin moved a few steps closer to Brian, his eyes pleading.

"Shit," Brian sighed, staring at the ceiling.

A long silence stretched out between them.

"Nightmares," Brian finally said, still staring at the ceiling.

"Still?"

Brian grinned, meeting Justin's gaze. Little did he know…

"Yeah. Still," he nodded.

"The bashing?"

Brian shrugged, "and other things."

"Other things?"

"They started in Toronto," Brain said flatly.

"Toronto? You've been having nightmares since Toronto? Since March? Jesus, Brian," Justin moved closer, like he wanted to put his hands on Brian but for whatever reason, Brian didn't want to be touched. He felt defective and weak and undeserving of any kindness or affection. He should be stronger than this for fuck's sake.

"They got worse after…," Brian slowly closed his eyes, "after Sam and the HIV scare. And then when you came back to Pittsburgh because of that fucking psycho trashing your studio-," Brian stopped himself.

Justin was looking at him with a slightly surprised, wide-eyed look on his face. But there was no pity in his look and for that Brian was grateful. He didn't want Justin's pity – he just wanted the fucking dreams to stop.

"Then, when you started coming back here on your own…," Brian shrugged, "they got worse."

Justin smiled gently, "Do you remember what I said to you when Mel and Lindsay were broken up that first time? When Linds was going to marry that French guy?"

Brian shrugged and shook his head – that was almost five years ago, how the hell would he remember anything that was said?

"I told you, you can't control everyone in your life, no matter how much you'd like too," Justin slowly approached Brian, but keeping his hands at his sides.

"Shit happens. Sometimes really, really bad shit," Justin was standing in front of Brian now, but he didn't make any move to touch him for which Brian was thankful. He didn't deserve to be touched or loved and he wondered, not for the first time, why Justin put up with him and why Justin even loved him at all.

"We deal with it, and move on. You have no reason to be afraid for me – believe me I battle my own fears every day and that's enough," Justin held Brian's gaze.

"I'm constantly wondering if the group of guys looking my way are going to grab me and drag me into an alley and beat me senseless, or maybe kill me. I'm constantly battling the paranoia that every time I go into a gay club or a gay bar that there might be a bomb waiting to go off," Justin reached out, grasping Brian's forearm and sliding his hand down until he had a hold of Brian's hand.

"But I can't dwell on it because then it would paralyze me and I'd never leave the house. But it's always there, in my head. All we can do is be aware of it and protect ourselves as best we can."

The fact that Justin still struggled with fear was complete and total news to Brian. He had thought Justin was impervious to fear – immune to anxiety. He had thought Justin infinitely stronger than him, and infinitely more capable of handling tragedy.

"That's all well and good, but all those things that happened to you? They were my fault. Imagine being responsible for causing pain and hurt and near-fatal injury to the man you love more than anything. And imagine doing it over, and over, and over again," Brian tried to make Justin see the truth – that he had reason to feel bad, reason to be punished. He'd escaped injury every time, always the one standing on the sidelines and watching while Justin was the one to suffer.

"What? That's not true," Justin shook his head, squeezing Brian's hand tighter when Brian tried to pull it away.

"You aren't responsible for the actions of other people. You're only responsible for yourself and to take on the guilt of everything bad that's ever happened to me, or to anyone in your life, is counter-productive."

Brian was guilty – but he had felt guilty for so many things and for so long he wasn't sure he even knew how to feel differently anymore.

"Do you hear me?"

Brian stared at Justin, slowly coming to a very obvious realization about himself, and finding his anger and hatred for his parents increasing in the process.

"Yes," Brian answered softly.

"Do you believe me," Justin pleaded, his face and his voice begging for Brian to accept he wasn't responsible for every bad thing that had ever happened.

But Brian could only shrug. Years of conditioning, being told your worthless, and unwanted, and unloved couldn't be undone in one night – but Brian finally realized why he accepted all the guilt anyone would place on him – it's what he'd done since he was a child. It was his role in the family.

"Marty said I should talk to someone," Brian cast his eyes over Justin's shoulder. He didn't want to see the horror in Justin's expression at the revelation.

"Oh," Justin replied.

There was a long silence in which Brian stared into the room, unsure of what to do next while Justin simply held on to his hand, his thumb softly stroking the back of it.

"Are you going to?" he finally asked and Brian shrugged.

He hadn't intended too, Marty's words of advice had faded as time had passed. But maybe it'd be a good idea. If he couldn't hear a damn song without freezing up; and if he couldn't control his rage impulses maybe he did need some professional guidance.

"I'm here for you whatever you decide," Justin said softly, moving closer until his body was pressed against Brian's.

"Me. And Lindsay. Gus. We all love you," Justin guided Brian's hand up to his shoulder before he wrapped his arms around Brian's waist, holding him tightly and pressing his face to Brian's chest.

Brian instinctively pulled Justin closer to him. He already felt better – admitting to his fears and not getting rejected by Justin for having them. Not that he thought that was a possibility, but Brian had lived his whole life burying his fears and insecurities so admitting them now was pretty fucking huge. Plus, coming to the realization that his parents had fucked him up far worse than he'd ever thought possible had also given him a new kind of clarity. Still, Brian desperately wanted to move past this part of his life – he just wanted to feel like himself again.


	24. Save the Last Dance For Me, Part II

Brian woke the next morning to a face full of blonde hair. Smirking, he smoothed the strands down and lifted his head slightly to see if Justin was awake or asleep. He saw eyelashes fluttering and let out a soft laugh.

"You're awake I see," Brian felt Justin's weight shift and the distinctive feel of his morning hard-on pressed into Brian's hip.

"Quite awake," Brian added with a low growl, pulling Justin up a little so he could kiss him properly.

Twenty minutes later they were in the shower, going for round two, and another twenty minutes later Brian was padding towards the door, a towel wrapped low around his hips. He, unlike Justin, was anxious to see what the local critics had to say about the art show so he'd requested several newspapers be delivered to their room and when he opened the door of their suite he found a tall stack waiting. Leaning down, Brian was gathering the papers in his hands when the door across the hall opened suddenly.

Still bent over, Brian raised his head to say good morning to Lindsay, whose room was directly across from him, but the words died on his lips as he saw not Lindsay but the startled, wide-eyed face of one Jaelynn Husted. She blushed, closing the door softly behind her and giving Brian a nervous sort of smile.

Brian, newspapers firmly in hand, straightened up and grinned at her knowingly.

"Morning," he smirked.

"Yeah, morning," she said nodded, eyeballing the stack of papers.

Offering Brian a tight lipped smile, Jaelynn hurried towards the bank of elevators. Brian watched her go, not bothering to hide his amusement, and he almost laughed out loud when roughly halfway down the hall she cast a glance over her shoulder.

When she was finally out of sight, Brian slipped back into the suite. Lindsay was moving on. Or at least allowing herself the pleasure of someone's company. He didn't even want to know how long it had been since she'd last had sex – shuddering at the thought because he knew what it had done to him, waiting six months. But he was proud of her for taking that first step. He knew she wouldn't forget or try to replace Melanie, but he also was of the mind that she should allow herself to find happiness again – and he knew Mel wouldn't begrudge her that, even if it was in the arms of another woman.

Carrying the newspapers back to the bedroom, Brian tried to clear his expression of his amusement. Until he talked to Linds he wasn't going to share his accidental witnessing of Jaelynn's walk of shame.

"Lookie what I have, Sunshine," Brian threw the papers onto the bed and they fanned out in a near perfect arc.

The New York Times, The New York Post, The Wall Street Journal, The Washington Post, The Philadelphia Inquirer, The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, The Baltimore Sun, and many others, including several local daily papers that focused on LGBT issues and events.

"Shit," Justin laughed, sitting up in the bed and pulling the covers to his waist.

"I never knew you cared so much," he teased and Brian just rolled his eyes.

"I'm going to order room service," he deadpanned, leaving Justin to the papers and making his way to the living area to place an order.

When Brian returned to the bedroom a few minutes later the bed was littered with various sections of various newspapers. Justin, one finger in his mouth, was holding in his other hand what looked like the Leisure & Arts page of the Wall Street Journal.

Standing at the side of the bed Brian watched Justin's eyes dart back and forth across the page. His finger was firmly clamped between his teeth and his expression was offering no clues as to what the report said.

The reviews had to be good. Brian didn't see how they couldn't be! Sure, Justin might not be a master of technique but when it came to eliciting emotional responses the kid was a genius. That was all Brian heard, all night long, was how Justin's paintings made people feel. Was that not the ultimate goal of art? To create something that stirs a feeling, an emotion, a response in people?

No, the reviews had to be good.

Justin lowered the paper to look at Brian, dropping his finger from his mouth and scratching his head.

"Well?" Brian asked.

Justin nodded, a small smile playing on his lips, "it's good."

It was good. Hell, they were all good. Particularly the review in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, a little bit of home-town pride certainly played into his review. And even though the critic from The Washington Post had felt it his place to cast aspersions to Justin's age and lack of education or experience, it was still an overall good review, too.

They celebrated with breakfast in bed, and a couple rounds in bed, and in the shower, before it was time for them to go get Gus from the brownstone where he'd stayed the night.

They met Lindsay in the hallway, and though Brian hadn't seen or talked to her since the night before, she cast a look at him pretty much that told him Jaelynn had informed her of their early morning run-in. Brian hadn't told Justin about it – preferring to talk to Linds first to see what this may or may not turn into. Still, he couldn't help but smirk at her, laughing out loud when she turned away with pink cheeks and embarrassed smile.

"What's so funny?" Justin asked, but Brian just shook his head.

They arrived at the brownstone to find everyone in the midst of a big breakfast, even though it was nearly 11am. Ben and Drew carried Lindsay, in her chair, up the stairs and to the kitchen so she could enjoy the company of her friends.

Everyone was excited and couldn't stop chattering about Justin's show. They were all so proud and happy for him. Brian was glad no one asked about or brought up the psycho. That was something he'd rather forget, and forever.

Technically, there were still two days left before Christmas but being in New York City had excited the little makeshift family group and so not long after clearing the table of breakfast leftovers, people started leaving in groups of two and three to do some Christmas shopping.

Brian had his own plans for the day. He wanted to make this a special Christmas for Gus, and Lindsay, and so he'd arranged for the hotel to decorate and put up a small tree in Lindsay and Gus's suite, but for the brownstone he'd have to find a tree himself. Which he hoped to do pretty quickly that morning.

Then, as he'd promised, he was going to take Gus, and Justin, back to Rockefeller Center for some ice skating. If the weather held out they could take a walk through Central Park, too. He thought Gus might find the park neat, and with his love of the Pittsburgh Zoo he was certain to enjoy the zoo in the park.

Money was no issue for Brian, so when he caught sight of a Christmas tree lot with tall, full fir trees he had the car driver stop. Pulling Gus out with him, he had his son pick the tree he wanted and without blinking an eye Brian handed the attendant $200 and gave him the address of the brownstone, adding another $50 if they could deliver it within the next hour.

Calling Debbie, he informed her of the impending delivery and told her where in the house she could find the stash of Christmas tree decorations. He asked her not to do any decorating until they came back with Gus.

That task taken care of, Brian instructed the driver to drop them off at the corner of Fifth Avenue and 59th Street. He wanted to walk Lindsay through the park, through Strawberry Fields. He wanted her to see the spot Justin had been painting when Heath had approached him. He thought she'd appreciate that.

The park was bustling – lots of tourists taking advantage of the nice December day to enjoy the outdoors. Brian didn't mind – everyone was in good spirits and though Strawberry Fields, and the zoo were both crowded, Gus and Lindsay had a good time.

Just before sunset, Brian bought them all hot dogs from a food cart, and they sat huddled together eating and watching the people walking by.

Finally, as the sun disappeared behind the metropolitan skyline, Brian led them all towards Rockefeller Center. It was roughly a ten block walk from Central Park and when Gus declared he wanted to walk, they did. The night was cold, but not unbearable, and Justin pushed Lindsay in her chair while they talked about artists and museums and whatever the hell else; Brian didn't even know. He walked ahead of them, hand firmly grasping Gus's while the little boy exclaimed wonder at very nearly everything around them. The tall buildings, the yellow cars, the bicyclists who rode with little regard to their own safety. Brian felt like he was seeing the city for the first time, listening to Gus.

Rockefeller Center was packed, as it always was and the line to get into the ice skating rink was quite long, so Justin and Brian took turns waiting while the other would sit with Lindsay and Gus around the sides of the rink – watching the people skate.

Lindsay still wouldn't talk to Brian and every time he opened his mouth to ask her something she just shot him a look that silenced him. He could wait her out though – so he bided his time knowing eventually she'd talk to him; she always did.

Finally they were next in line for the rink and though Brian had skated before, he'd forgotten how much he didn't like it. The feeling of being out of control of his own body had him scowling and cursing and flipping off Justin who just laughed at him. Both Justin and Gus were as comfortable on the skates as they seemed to be in their shoes on the sidewalk and so after a few turns around the rink, Brian left Justin to skate with Gus for a bit longer and he relinquished his spot in the ice to return to sit with Lindsay.

She was smiling when Brian sat next to her and he laughed with her as they watched Gus's tiny legs try to find purchase on the ice when he tried to skate faster to keep up with Justin.

"Maybe he'll be a hockey star," Lindsay laughed and Brian scowled at her.

"Hockey?"

"Well, you never know," Lindsay said and Brian sighed. But hockey? If his son was going to grow up to be a heterosexual athlete he'd prefer he played something like Soccer. Not that it mattered because Brian would do what he could to support whatever his son wanted to do – regardless of how much Brian might enjoy, or not enjoy, the "thing".

Brian watched Gus and Justin, laughing once again as Justin's feet suddenly went out from under him and he fell hard on his ass.

"Might have to lay off the hard-core sex for a little while," Lindsay smirked.

"Fuck that," Brian shook his head, though secretly he did hope Justin wasn't too bruised or sore…

"Speaking of sex…," Brian turned to look at Lindsay, ignoring her narrowed eyes. "Hey! You brought it up. If you're going to comment on my sex life then it's only fair I get to comment on yours."

He'd meant it as a tease, a joke, but something in Lindsay's expression broke and she seemed to slump in her chair.

"I think I fucked up," she sighed, holding her head in her hands.

"What? Why the fuck would you think that? You lesbians put far too much emphasis and emotions into sex," Brian checked that Justin was back up on his feet and moving okay before he turned back to Lindsay. "It's okay if you just want to get your rocks off sometimes."

"It's not that," she sighed.

"I don't want to mess this up for Justin, and she's so young…," Lindsay still had her face covered by her hands.

"Sure, she's young, but so the fuck what? As for Justin – how would what you do with Jaelynn mess anything up for him?"

Lindsay shrugged, but didn't speak.

"Lindsay," Brian tried to pull one of her hands away from her face but she fought him.

"Lindsay."

She didn't respond for several minutes. Finally, she dropped her hands and looked at Brian with big, brown eyes.

"I feel like I've cheated on Melanie," she admitted and Brian had to try really hard not to laugh.

"It wouldn't be the first time," he said, trying not to be callous or rude but unsure of what Lindsay meant.

"I mean her memory," Lindsay clarified. "I haven't been with another woman since I met Mel."

"Just men then," Brian smirked and Lindsay slapped his thigh, hard. "Ow! Shit, Lindsay."

"Serves you right," she glowered at him.

"Melanie would want you to move on, be happy," Brian rubbed his thigh. The power of Lindsay's slap and the cold temperatures meant the stinging sensation in his nerves lingered slightly longer than usual.

"How would you know? You two hated each other," Lindsay laughed and Brian shrugged.

"We agreed on one thing," he leaned over until his face was just inches from hers, "we both loved you."

"God, Brian," Lindsay rolled her eyes, turning her face away and sitting silently for several long minutes.

Brian sat back, turning his attention back to the ice where he could see Justin was trying to cajole Gus into getting off the ice. Brian smirked. He'd give Justin a few more minutes to squirm before he'd assert his dad-power and bring Gus off the ice.

"And I like her," Lindsay's voice caught Brian's attention and when he looked back over at her she was staring at him earnestly. "Jaelynn I mean. She's sweet. A lot like Melanie, but not as much of a bully. Even though I loved that about Mel."

Brian nodded, encouraging her to go on because if anything was going to help Lindsay heal it would be a new friend, hopefully with benefits but even if not maybe she could be someone Lindsay could talk too that wasn't Brian.

"It didn't start as sex," she said, "just so you know."

"Hey, whatever," Brian shrugged, "I don't judge."

"I left my cell phone at the gallery and that's how she tracked me down. I mean, we had talked a little at the show and I knew I liked her. She was friendly, and interested in me, and asked about you and Justin. She knew where we were staying and so when she found it was my phone she called me at the hotel. She brought the phone back and we had a few drinks and…well…one thing leads to another. You know."

Brian didn't know, not for women, but he knew in general what Lindsay meant.

"Was she good?"

"Brian!" Lindsay laughed, but her offence seemed false.

Brian saw Justin leading Gus towards the rink exit and he smiled. He'd have to find out how Justin had talked Gus into leaving the ice.

"She was great," Lindsay said softly, grinning when Brian turned back to look at her.

They were laughing when Justin and Gus came upon them. They were both red-faced, and Brian thought it looked like Justin was walking a little stiffly. He made a note to help ease his sore rear in their Jacuzzi tub later.

"We want some hot chocolate, right Gus?" Justin grinned and Gus nodded enthusiastically.

* * *

Brian stepped out into the cold night, pulling the joint from the pocket of his jacket. With one casual backward glance at the brownstone, Brian lit up, inhaling deeply and letting his entire body relax. He could hear JR and Gus laughing and screaming, and Brian sighed.

The door behind him opened and Brian heard Debbie and Michael both yell at JR at the same time about something before the door closed and the sounds muted once more.

"Don't jump," Justin's soft voice said and Brian huffed a soft laugh, casting a quick glance over his shoulder as the blonde shivered in the cold.

It had been a long day. They had just finished dinner and now everyone was sitting around, chatting and watching the kids play with a model train set that Carl had bought for Gus. It was bigger and more intricate than the one Brian remembered helping Gus set-up in that shit-hole apartment Lindsay lived in for a time, just over a year ago.

It wasn't a bad night, or even boring, but Brian was crawling out of his skin sitting there with everyone and he wasn't entirely sure why. He had no reason to be put off. He and Justin were finally in a good place, Lindsay and Gus were happy. It all just felt….odd. He had to wonder if he'd gotten too used to the drama that seemed to plague him.

"How are you holding up?" Justin asked as he came around to Brian's side, pulling the joint from Brian's lips and putting to his own.

"I'm still here," Brian sighed.

The night before, after ice skating, Justin had started complaining about his sore ass – and while Brian would have taken to teasing Justin about it for other reasons, he didn't think Lindsay would appreciate the jokes with Gus there with them.

So they all returned to the hotel where Justin disappeared into their suite, and where Brian helped Lindsay get Gus inside where they found a Christmas paradise set up for them. Gus, who had been on the verge of passing out from exhaustion just moments before was suddenly wide awake and running back and forth in front of the Christmas tree, which already had a few presents beneath it.

"Did you do this?" Lindsay had asked him and he'd just shrugged. She'd smiled at him and ten minutes later he was back in his own suite, seeking out Justin.

Brian had found Justin in their bathroom, filling the large Jacuzzi tub with scalding hot water. He was bent over the tub slightly when Brian found him, naked of course. Brian had taken the opportunity to admire the younger man's form and physique. His skin was milky and smooth and the light from the bathroom fixture cast soft shadows on his light muscle tone. As Brian's eyes traveled down from his head he paused when he saw the large black and blue bruise at the base of his spine.

He'd approached Justin then, silently stripping off his button down shirt, and undershirt until he was standing just behind the other man. When he'd tenderly reached out to touch the bruise Justin had jumped slightly. They didn't speak as Justin turned to face Brian, helping him off with his pants. They enjoyed a soak together – and Brian gently washed Justin, taking care of his bruise and feeling slightly bummed that Justin likely wouldn't want to have sex for a few days. They still managed to please one another, but it wasn't the same as fucking, as sex, as making love (as begrudgingly as Brian still used that obscene term).

Now they were back at the brownstone for Christmas Eve, having been there all day (since 3 in the afternoon anyway) and Brian was itching to get away from it all. He'd known it was going to be difficult. Going from never celebrating Christmas to spending three full days with everyone he knew in one small space. It was quite the test of his will. And he was fast losing.

Justin passed the joint back to Brian before turning and leaning against the rail of the small front stoop.

"Bad memories," Brian added to Justin's inquiry.

"Want to talk about it?" Justin asked.

Brian arched his brow before taking another drag and shaking his head. He didn't want to talk about it because it wasn't anything he could specifically identify. It was a general discomfort of being trapped in that house with all those people. It was the perceived expectation of the holiday, and it was the accumulation of bad memories of all the Christmases he'd had as a child. It was the urge to run screaming mixed with the urge to try and join in.

All he knew was he still struggled with identifying his place. He was a father, but only just barely, he was a friend, though not a very good one most of the time, he was a lover, though his actions in the past had rarely been very loving. He was trying to change all that, and to accept the labels and their connotations but it was hard. After so long living life one way, it took a lot of effort to make such sweeping changes and Brian wondered if it would never _not_ be a struggle.

Brian wordlessly passed the joint back over to Justin, thankful he was there with him, though. Brian could not make it through this holiday shit without him. Just very his presence was calming, soothing.

"They're talking about tomorrow," Justin changed the subject after he'd taken a few pulls of the joint. It was much smaller now, barely any left and Brian wished he'd brought a few more with him.

"And what are they saying," he inquired, taking the joint back from Justin and finishing it off before he tossed the last bit of it out onto the sidewalk, not even caring he was littering.

When Justin didn't answer him, Brian looked over at him. He was smiling apologetically and Brian immediately knew he wasn't going to like whatever it was.

"Emmett wants to go see a Broadway show. I think he said something about _La Cage aux Folles_."

"And what the fuck is that?" Brian sighed, moving to lean against the rail beside Justin.

"I'm not sure, but Ted said something about it being related to the movie The Birdcage?"

"Well fuck if I'm going to a Broadway show. And I highly doubt Gus would sit through that," Brian groused. "We'll stay behind and, I don't know, do something else."

"Oh Deb already offered to watch the kids tomorrow," Justin smirked, gently bumping his shoulder against Brian and then staying there, resting his weight against Brian.

"Fucking Christmas," Brian sighed.

"Stop," Justin said softly.

They sat together, quietly for several long minutes. Brian could hear the muted sounds of the city, as well as the sounds of the kids, and Debbie, yelling and laughing inside the house.

"Lindsay's planning to move back to Pittsburgh," Brian said just he heard Gus squeal with laughter from inside the house.

"She…what?" Justin shifted, turning and staring up at Brian.

"She'll be moving out. Eventually," Brian avoided Justin's stare and instead focused on watching a young couple walk by on the sidewalk below. They both nodded to Brian in greeting as they passed by, hand in hand.

"Are you okay with that?" Justin asked and Brian shrugged.

"Sure."

He was – most of the time. For instance after spending several long days playing parent he was actually looking forward to having some time apart from Lindsay and Gus. But then the guilt over that feeling would descend and he'd hate himself for not wanting to spend time with them. He couldn't find that happy medium – that place where he finally felt he absolutely belonged. Maybe after Linds and Gus moved out he'd find it. Maybe it was at that house in the country, with Justin. Or maybe it was at the loft, with Justin. Either way, it was with Justin and not with Lindsay and Gus. Was that wrong of him to feel? He wasn't sure. He'd never expected to be such a presence or influence in Gus's life. Hell, he'd expected to be a non-presence back in the beginning; when he'd drunkenly agreed to father a child. But things had changed quite a lot over the last five years – and now he wasn't sure he even remembered how to live his life without thinking of Gus first. It was startling, and if he thought about it too much, it terrified him.

The front door opened then, and Michael's head appeared.

"Are you coming back in?" he laughed.

Justin started forward, capturing Brian's hand in his and pulling him along behind. Brian just took a deep breath and willed himself to make it through the last few hours of the evening.

* * *

Brian and Justin woke early Christmas morning because of an incessant knocking at their suite door. Cursing under his breath, Brian threw back the covers and padded towards the door with every intention of telling whoever was there to kindly, fuck off. But when he threw open the door and was met with the wild-eyed grin of his son, his anger faded.

"Santa came!" Gus exclaimed quite loudly, hopping up and down on his toes.

Brian clad only in his boxers, nodded and glanced up and down the hallway hoping Gus's exuberance wasn't waking up the whole floor.

"Okay, go back inside and Justin and I will be there in a few minutes," Brian gently turned Gus around and walked him across the hall to the opposite suite, shuttling him inside and closing the door behind him.

"Fucking Christmas," he mumbled under his breath, going back to get Justin up so they could go over to Lindsay's suite.

Ten minutes later, breakfast on room service carts and fresh coffee in hand, Brian was seated on the floor of Lindsay's suite, his back resting against the sofa where Justin sat behind him. They were watching as Gus ripped open the quite large stack of gifts – most from Brian and Lindsay but several were from "Santa" as well. There was even a gift from Gina who, true to her word, had been writing letters to Gus since she'd gone – roughly two a month.

There were a few gifts for the adults, some small trinkets and niceties from Lindsay. Justin, of course, had gifted to Lindsay the painting of Gus and Sunny from his show – much to Lindsay's surprise and joy. She tried to refuse it, saying he'd never make a name for himself giving his art away for free to friends and family, but Justin wouldn't hear it, and Brian began to fully realize how little he cared about the fame and fortune of it all. He started to see what Justin had been saying all along, that he made art to make art – for himself. Making money and being successful would be an added bonus, but not why Justin did it. It was a position Brian didn't necessarily understand, but he was beginning to respect it.

An hour later Gus was passed out on the floor amongst his new toys and clothes and books and so Brian and Justin retreated back to their suite for their own celebration. They weren't due back at the brownstone until 5pm for dinner, having managed to convince Deb they needed their own space. Still, while Brian knew they'd likely have to return to Lindsay and Gus's suite later on, for the moment he was content to have Justin alone.

Back in their room they both stripped down. The bruise on Justin's back had faded and though he'd complained of some tenderness he had been more than willing to suffer through it the night before when Brian asked if they could fuck. Brian hoped he wasn't too sore this morning because he was quite anxious to get his hands on Justin once again.

"I have something for you," Brian stuck his tongue in his cheek as he smiled. Justin was laying on the bed, arms and legs splayed open as if in offering.

"If it's your dick inside me, I happily accept," Justin smiled back and Brian shook head.

"Well, that's part two. Part one though…," Brian moved to the closet and pulling out his suitcase he lifted the lid to remove a shoe-sized box wrapped in silver and gold embossed paper and tied with a thick, black, silky ribbon.

"What is that?" Justin sat up, resting on his elbows and watching Brian approach with the box held out. He scrambled to a sitting position as Brian handed the box to him wordlessly.

"We said no gifts," Justin held it, shaking it a little as if to try and gauge its weight before he looked to Brian with raised brows.

"Just open it," Brian prompted, suddenly nervous Justin was going to hate everything about the new studio space.

Setting the box down, Justin slowly untied the ribbon before he gently lifted the flaps of wrapping paper on either end of the box. He was much more careful than Gus had been earlier, and Brian bit back a chuckle. Slowly, Justin removed the wrapping paper in one large piece, tossing it to the floor before taking a deep breath and lifting the box lid.

Brian held his breath, waiting for a reaction.

"Jesus, Brian," Justin finally breathed, raising his eyes to Brian and grinning. "Are you for real?"

"So you like it," Brian smiled gently, crawling up the bed and positioning himself next to Justin, staring into the box.

On top was the artist's rendering of the finished studio; all windows and natural wood exterior, blending into the surrounding woods and seeming to disappear. Brian loved everything about it, and he had hoped Justin would too.

"There's more," Brian reached a hand in and lifting the thick paper of the artist's print he revealed the blueprints, as well as the small folder that contained all the details of the new studio.

Justin didn't speak as he looked through the documents but Brian was no longer afraid he wouldn't like the space. In reality he knew Justin would work anywhere, in any space, so long as Brian was nearby. But even if he was willing to, that didn't mean he should have to. He deserved this gift, and even if he never sold another painting Brian would have given it to him – because he'd seen what creating art did for Justin. It was his outlet, his coping mechanism, his healthy way of managing his pain.

Brian wished he could find that for himself.

"This is…shit, I don't even know what this is. Amazing? Wonderful?" Justin was looking at Brian, smiling softly.

"Thank you," he said pointedly, leaning in to kiss Brian.

"You've earned it," Brian teased.

Justin lifted the box and put it on the nightstand next to his side of the bed before he turned back to Brian, climbing on him and straddling his hips.

"I'd like to collect my second gift now," he teased, reaching back to grab the black, silky ribbon that had adorned the box. He ran it through his fingers and Brian eyed it with interest.

"And just what do you plan to do with that," Brian smirked.

Justin leaned forward, his lips hovering just millimeters away from Brian's. When he spoke his breath was laced with the mixed scents of coffee and toothpaste.

"I'm going to tie you up and ride your cock so hard you'll be begging me for release."

His tongue darted out then, licking Brian's upper lip.

Brian's cock, hard already from anticipation, swelled larger at the mental images of Justin's plan. They'd tied each other up before, a few times, and it had been enjoyable. Not Brian's favorite game to play necessarily but when things got a little too "hetero" in bed it was one way he liked to add some variety and spice things up again.

Without a word Brian raised his arms, his wrists together, resting them against the headboard of the bed. Justin kissed him long and hard, before he rose to his knees and slid the ribbon loosely around Brian's wrists, securing him to the headboard with a slipknot Brian could easily escape from if he needed too.

Justin sat back then, scooting down Brian's body and pulling Brian's boxers off as he went. Kneeling at the end of the bed, Justin eyed Brian's body from head to toe and the heat of his stare sent shivers of anticipation down Brian's body. He loved it when Justin looked at him like that – hell, he loved it when Justin looked at him, period.

Justin stood to briefly remove his shorts and then he was back on the bed, on his hands and knees and crawling slowly up Brian's body, using his mouth to lick, and kiss, and bite at every part of Brian. His hands slid up Brian's legs, the tiny hairs catching on the small calluses on Justin's hands, from his painting. The tiny stings of pain sent bolts of electricity up Brian's spine and he found himself panting, breathless, as he watched the blonde head so very slowly make its way up his legs and nearer his rock-hard cock.

Brain spread his legs slightly as Justin worked over his knees and started licking and kissing at Brian's inner thighs. He wanted Justin's mouth on his dick, he wanted Justin's fingers up his ass. He wanted to feel it all at once. He let out a soft moan as Justin's tongue licked up towards his perineum, but Brian was incredibly disappointed when Justin ignored both his ass and his cock and put his mouth to Brian's navel instead.

Brian started to squirm, suddenly wishing he had use of his hands so he could grab the little fucker and kiss him into oblivion while he rammed his cock up him over and over again. But – this was Justin's gift, as he'd sort of promised moments before, and so he had to let Justin take control – but fuck if he wasn't going crazy with desire.

Hands and mouth now on his abdomen, Brian could feel Justin's leaking cock head brushing his thighs and he lifted his hips slightly in response.

"Oh, no you don't," Justin raised his head, his skin flushed and his lips swollen.

"Justi-," Brian started but then Justin's mouth was on his cutting him off. They kissed wet, and sloppy, and hard until both were breathless.

"Wait," Justin grinned before he resumed his attentions to Brian's torso and pectorals, taking his time working around his nipples and getting them rock-hard, too. Justin's soft touch and tender caresses were driving Brian mad; his entire body was tensed up like a spring and all he wanted was to be released. His cock ached, throbbing with need and yet Brian didn't want this to end. He didn't want Justin stop touching, or kissing, or fucking, or loving him. Ever.

Brian leaned his head back as far he could as Justin's mouth moved across Brian's clavicle to his neck. There Justin paused, taking a moment to bite and suck, painfully and erotically, at the spot where Brain's neck met his shoulders. There would be a mark there, later, but Brian didn't care – the pain was equal to the pleasure, and he tilted his head as far as he could to give Justin free reign and access.

Justin's cock was tracing wet, dripping patterns on Brian's abdomen when their lips met again while his hands worked slowly up Brian's biceps, massaging the tightening muscles even as Brian struggled to control his impulse to pull his arms free. The slipknot was tight, but with slight exertion Brian would easily come free.

Pulling away from their kiss, Justin's eyes reflected back Brian's lustful desires and when he spoke, Justin's voice echoed Brian's in its throaty, thick texture.

"Nearly ready?" he growled in Brian's ear, reaching to the bedside table on Brian's side and grabbing the bottle of lube that had been full when they'd arrived and was now over 2/3 gone.

Brian watched, transfixed, as Justin squirted some in his hand and began to finger-fuck himself in preparation. His eyes remained locked with Brian's as he moved and for a brief moment Brian worried he might come all over himself just from the sight before him.

Then, suddenly, Justin's slicked, lubed hand was on Brian's cock, twisting and pulling and sliding along the shaft, sending electrical shocks of pleasure coursing through him.

Brian gasped and his hips responded involuntarily to the touch. Justin was sitting astride him, smiling down on him as his hand worked Brian's cock behind his back. Just as Brian was about to warn Justin he couldn't take much more, Justin stopped stroking him and Brian felt him guide the tip of his cock to his ass.

It took all the willpower Brian possessed not to thrust his hips upward at that moment. Breathing heavily, he patiently waited as Justin gently pressed down on him, guiding him in. Brian watched his face as he slowly accepted Brian's cock inside him. He flinched slightly at the initial intrusion, but as he sank lower and Brian felt his cock slide deeper in, his expression relaxed, transitioning to what Brian could only call sheer bliss.

Sitting astride him, Brian's cock buried to the hilt deep into his ass, Justin started to move, slowly sliding up and down. His eyes remained glued to Brian's, and Brian felt a shudder of pleasure shoot through him at every movement. Justin's hands splayed out on Brian's chest as he moved, and when he raked his palms over Brian's still-erect nipples, Brian felt the rough calluses catch and send tiny sparks of pleasure through his body.

Brian loved sex, and Brian loved sex with Justin. He thought he might never, ever get tired of fucking him. In fact, he knew he would never tire of it.

Neither man lasted very long, and when Brian warned Justin he was close, Justin started stroking his own cock, moving faster to match the speed of his hand. They came within seconds of each other, and Brian, as always, relished the feel of Justin's ass tightening around his cock and milking him dry as he shuddering with the orgasm radiating through his body.

After, Justin rolled off Brian and onto his back in a panting heap. Brian yanked his arms free, tossing the ribbon to the floor where the wrapping paper fluttered in the slight breeze from the heating vents.

Brian rolled over and pressed his face into Justin's neck, draping his arm across the other man's chest. And they woke that way two hours later – both of them covered in dried, flaky come, but both of them more than willing to help the other clean up in the shower.

* * *

The gang, along with Lindsay and Gus, departed New York City the morning of the 26th. Brian and Justin saw them off from the brownstone, giving Lindsay and Gus the use of the hired car to get them to Penn Station. Michael, Ben and JR were going to ride the train back with them, while the others all were flying home.

When everyone was gone and Brian and Justin were alone in the brownstone Brian felt like he could breathe for the first time. He hadn't really realized he'd been so tense the whole trip – not until everyone was gone and then it was like a giant weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He wanted to celebrate, to fuck Justin in every room of the brownstone that, thankfully, the gang had left cleaner than when they'd arrived.

Brian was starting to make his move, planning all the various positions and surfaces he could bend Justin over when the other man's cell phone rang. Brian sighed and sank down onto the sofa as Justin smiled apologetically and answered the call.

He paced back and forth, giving monosyllabic answers and so Brian really had no clue what the call was about. All he could see was Justin's face lighting up with excitement as whoever was on the other end kept speaking.

"Yes, yes," Justin nodded, smiling, "okay. See you then."

Disconnecting the call Justin slipped his cell phone back into his pocket and turned to face Brian.

"Well?" Brian arched his eyebrow.

"It was Jaelynn. She wants to have lunch in a few days and introduce me to someone. She wouldn't say who only that this guy was very influential in the art world, and that he was enamored of my work," Justin was practically bouncing on his toes.

Brian smiled. He was proud – God knows he was proud. But another influential person? Another reason for Justin to stay behind in New York? Brian tried to shove the thoughts from his mind – best not to borrow trouble…

"Congratulations Sunshine," Brian crooned, "now come 'ere."

Brian managed to bend Justin over three surfaces in three different rooms before the cleaning crew he'd hired to do a once over showed up. By then the car that had delivered Michael, Ben, JR, Lindsay and Gus to Penn Station had returned, and so Brian and Justin went back to the hotel to finish what they'd started. It was really all they were interested in doing – and they didn't leave the hotel again for the rest of the night.

* * *

Several days later was Justin's lunch meeting with Jaelynn and the mystery artist. Brian opted not to come along, instead heading over to Fifth Avenue to get a few new suits. He told Justin to meet him over there when he was finished.

The previous few days the two men had done nothing but have sex, eat room service, and watch trashy television. They'd gone out to dinner once, but otherwise they hadn't left the hotel, simply alternating their activities between the bedroom, the bathroom, the living room and the balcony of their suite. They were both tired, and starting to get sore from all the activity, but they also couldn't seem to stop – their appetites insatiable for each other.

In fact as soon as Brian headed towards Fifth Avenue, parting ways with Justin, he immediately missed him and he wished he'd gone along on the lunch meeting. There were two reasons he'd declined the invitation – one, he didn't want to intrude upon the meeting – he'd wanted to give Justin and his agent the privacy and freedom to speak freely and two, he really had no desire to sit and listen to three artists talk shop for what could be hours. He loved art, and he loved Justin, but that was a line he wasn't quite willing to cross – not just yet.

So Brian distracted himself with shopping. Armani, Prada, Hugo Boss, Versace, Gucci…the list went on. Yes, he was quite happy to spend the morning and afternoon pampering himself, or rather letting the staff of the various stores he visited pamper him. He even bought Justin a few things – even though he knew the other man would grumble and complain about Brian spending money on him.

It was just after 3pm when Justin finally called Brian to find out where he was. Justin sounded strange on the phone – quite serious and subdued and Brian couldn't help but worry something had gone terribly wrong. He made sure he hadn't missed any important messages but no one had called or texted him so there couldn't be something wrong with one of their friends. Instead, Brian spent the next 30 minutes waiting for Justin to arrive, anxiously pacing the sidewalk in front of the men's boutique Ermenegildo Zenga and imagining all sorts of horrors that might have befallen Justin.

When Justin finally arrived, emerging from a cab looking no worse for wear, Brian relaxed slightly. When Justin smiled and kissed him hello Brian relaxed a little more.

"Busy day?" Justin asked and Brian shrugged.

"Dropped a couple thou," he smirked and Justin just shook his head.

"Come inside," Brian slipped his hand into Justin's, a gesture he rarely initiated, and pulled the other man into the shop. He had dropped a couple hundred to the staff to squeeze he and Justin into the fitting schedule. He wanted to gift Justin a new suit and based on the mood the younger man was in, it would seem he needed some adoring attention.

Brian resisted asking what was wrong as they were both measured for new suits. Finally, when they were done and back on the street – their measurements on their way to the factory and the suits set to be shipped to them at the house in West Virginia – Brian broached the subject.

"So do you want to tell me what happened?"

They were walked down Fifth Avenue, towards Times Square. The day was fairly warm, for the end of December, and there were decidedly more people on the street, no doubt in the city for New Year's.

Justin laughed out loud, eliciting a few strange looks from the people around them.

"It's a joke. A big, fat fucking joke," he shook his head and Brian narrowed his eyes at him, feeling very confused.

"What's a big, fat fucking joke?" he asked and once again Justin laughed.

"Everything. My life."

"Care to elaborate?" Brian said, unable to hide the hint of irritation he was feeling at the veiled words coming out of Justin's mouth.

"Well first of all, the man Jaelynn and I met with is a fucking Senior Critic for niya," he laughed as if this was the most ridiculous thing in the world.

"What the fuck is niya?" Brian asked, thoroughly confused. If Justin had expected Brian to understand anything he'd just said, he was shit out of luck.

"Niya, New York Academy of Art. N – Y – A – A," Justin said, spelling it out as if Brian was an idiot.

"Oh, of course, how could it be anything else," Brian scoffed, though now he understood the pronunciation – it was an acronym.

"Sorry, I'm just…so frustrated!" Justin clenched his fists.

"There, there, settle down Sunshine," Brian draped his arm across Justin's shoulders as they stopped at the intersection of Fifth Avenue and 50th Street. His hand played with the tendrils of hair at the nape of Justin's neck.

"So tell me, what's a Senior Critic," Brian prompted and Justin sighed.

"A Senior Critic is an established artist and the school has several. They teach some Master Classes and do critiques of student's works," Justin explained as the light changed and they started crossing the street with the throngs of other people.

"Okay," Brian said slowly, "and why is any of this bad?"

"It's not bad," Justin sighed, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to look at Brian before he pulled Brian out of the flow of traffic and up against the front window of Louis Vitton. Ironic, since Brian had just been in the store a few hours earlier.

"His name is Vincenzo Declara and he's this fantastic painter that does amazing things with mixed media, and also combining abstract shapes with realism. He's been all the rage for the last few years in Italy and he came over here a few years ago. His first show here in the States was at Heath's gallery actually," Justin explained.

Brian nodded – so far it all sounded fairly benign, but he sensed a big 'but' coming, and his stomach was knotting itself with the anticipation of some news he was sure he wasn't going to like.

"He visited the gallery the day after the show, and asked Heath about my stuff. Heath gave him Jaelynn's number, and that's how we met for lunch today."

"And?" Brian was getting anxious, he just wanted Justin to spit it out already.

"And in March Vincenzo is taking a group of NYAA students to Italy for a few months of teaching and traveling. It's a seminar that, thankfully, you don't have to be enrolled as a Graduate Student to take. And he wants me to come along."

"Ah," Brian nodded – finally understanding why Justin was so frustrated. He tried for almost a year to make a success of himself in New York. Then, when he decides to come back to Brian and Pittsburgh, he not only gets featured in a prestigious art show but he's being invited by a well known and respected artist to travel around Italy and study and paint for a few months.

"How long is a few months," Brian asked, trying to sound casual but feeling the same frustration Justin obviously was. Just as they were finally managing to get their lives on track, together, another fucking wrench was being thrown into the mix.

"March through June," Justin groused, his expression miserable and Brian almost wanted to laugh. Almost.

"That's not so bad," Brian shrugged. March through June; four months. They could do it.

"It's four months," Justin raised his eyebrows as if he couldn't believe Brian wasn't more outraged. "Four fucking months. That's like a lifetime for us."

Brian laughed. It was true – he and Justin were probably the most sexually active couple in the world, straight or not. Four months could be a very, very long time to wait to be together.

"There's no days off where you can travel back?" Brian asked and Justin shook his head.

"No. Vincenzo made it a point to explain it was very intensive trip. Lots of work, like as in, all day, every day painting and drawing and critiquing each other. He said sometimes the days can go twelve to fourteen hours, especially towards the end when the weather is warmer and the sun is out longer."

Well, fuck. Brian chewed on his lower lip, wrapping his arm back around Justin's shoulders and steering them back into the steady flow of people on the sidewalk.

"When do you have to decide," Brian asked gently, the feel of Justin's arm around his waist tethering him to the younger man. He wondered fleetingly if he'd have nightmares later, the thought of Justin halfway around the world slightly paralyzing him with the same abstract fear he'd felt when Justin was in New York and Brian was in Pittsburgh. He hadn't had any nightmares for weeks, but he'd also been at Justin's side, save the three days before the art show.

"I have to let him know by tomorrow," Justin said with a definite twinge of sadness in his tone.

They walked in silence for several more blocks before Brian steered them into a café. They ordered coffees and sat silently with each other for several minutes before Brian finally spoke.

"Do you have any idea of what you're going to do?" Brian cupped his mug, the heat from the coffee warming his chilled hands – he'd forgotten his gloves and hadn't bought a new pair yet.

"I feel like I've got to go, but fuck if I really want too," Justin grumbled.

"Would going make you happy?" Brian asked, knowing the answer – because he knew Justin.

"Yeah, but so would staying here with you," Justin sighed and Brian just shook his head.

"Staying here wouldn't make you happy. Maybe short term, but not when you know you're missing out on an opportunity like this. You have to go. I want you to go," Brian said, lying to Justin's face. It was true he had to go. It wasn't entirely true that Brian wanted him to go – but Justin had to believe it was okay or else he wouldn't go. Brian hated himself for manipulating him when he'd promised himself he wouldn't ever do it again.

"Brian...," Justin was looking at him doubtfully.

"I'm serious. You should go. It's only four months. What's that compared to the six we just suffered through? It's nothing. Fuck, it'll go by in a flash. You'll have an amazing time, learn some real craft from a wonderful artist. It'll be an experience that will undoubtedly inform you for the rest of your life. Go. Please. No apologies, no regrets," Brian said. At least this was all true. An opportunity like this wasn't going to present itself again, and Justin needed to make the most of it.

"Brian-," Justin sighed, sadly.

"I'm serious," Brian reiterated, sensing there was some larger issue at hand that was making Justin doubt this opportunity.

"No, you listen to me this time," Justin interrupted, his expression pained.

"I've been in love with you for five years. Five fucking years. It might have started out as puppy love or a crush or whatever but it quickly developed into more; hell, it's still developing into more. You want me to be happy? Being with you makes me happy."

Justin sighed and ran his hands through his hair, his mouth working like he wasn't sure what to say next.

"I went to New York because I really thought I wanted too. But after being here, alone for months, and missing you terribly and having no luck at getting any attention for my art, I knew I couldn't be here anymore; I knew I didn't want to be here. This place was draining the life from me because without you, I don't feel alive; I couldn't bear to be away from you – even when things were rough and we didn't know about…you know. And these last few months traveling back and forth have been hell, too. Every damn time I have to leave you a part of me dies inside and I don't want to be away from you again for even a day. Fuck! Am I pathetic or what?"

Justin threw his head back dramatically and Brian bit back a snarky comment about drama queens…it wasn't the right time and he knew Justin would not appreciate a sarcastic joke at the moment.

"I get it. I do," Brian reached out and took one of Justin's hands in his, "but Justin, this is a big deal. Huge. And I would never forgive myself for being the reason you didn't go. Trust me, you'll regret not taking this opportunity. And like I said, it's only four months. Four measly months. I'll be working my ass off at Kinnetik anyway, so don't think we'd have all this free time to spend together if you stay," Brian's thumbs stroked the back of Justin's hand as he stared into the clear blue eyes of the other man. He couldn't believe he was actually encouraging him to go. Well – he could believe it, but it still felt incredibly strange.

"Four months is a long time," Justin said, his voice a whisper and suddenly Brian understood what he was really afraid of.

"Jesus," Brian lowered his head, staring at his lap with such a feeling of morose regret he thought he might crumble under its weight.

"Justin. Fuck. It's not going to happen again. It's not."

The fucking around, the HIV, the drinking and drugging habits of an over-the-hill club boy. Brian wasn't that man anymore and yes, while he might have to find some sexual relief elsewhere in the four months Justin was gone, he would do everything in his power not to fuck another guy – he wanted that to belong only to Justin – but he couldn't promise it. And he wouldn't promise it. It wouldn't be fair to either of them to promise it.

"You can't promise that," Justin said matter-of-factly and Brian hated that he was right.

"No, I can't," Brian said, ignoring the brief flash of pain that crossed Justin's features.

"I can promise you that I'll tell you, every single fucking time I do anything, with anyone. You'll know," Brian said and Justin closed his eyes with a sigh, "and I can promise that I'll try. I'll really try to save it for you."

Justin's eyes opened again and while he still looked far too sad for Brian's tastes, he simply nodded with a gentle smile.

"That's more than you've promised in the past," he said softly and Brian felt his heart crack wide open. Fuck if he hadn't hurt Justin in more ways than he'd ever really allowed himself to realize. And fuck if he thought he ever deserved such a forgiving, caring man in his life.

* * *

They spent the rest of the night discussing the pro's and con's of Justin going and really, the only real con to the offer was the fact that they'd be separated for four months. Finally, early in the morning of the 31st of December, Justin called Jaelynn and told her to let Vincenzo know he'd be going to Italy.

They were lying in bed when Justin called, and Brian could hear the exclamations of Justin's agent at his decision. She was excited for him, and Brian was too – but he was also dreading it. The more he thought about it, the more he determined he was really going to try to stay faithful while Justin was gone. The kid – no – the man fucking deserved that from Brian.

For New Year's Eve, Brian had secured another hotel room on Times Square. It overlooked the crowds below and they had a bird's eye view of the giant ball that had been dropping since 1907. The room had cost a pretty penny – the one night nearly more than the previous seven combined from their prior hotel. But it was worth it. The room had a private balcony alcove that had an outdoor heater so Brian and Justin could sit outside and listen to the festivities going on below them. They were wrapped up in a thick, fleece blanket, Justin cuddled in the v of Brian's legs, his back resting against Brian's chest. Brian had his arms wrapped around the other man's torso, Justin's head resting neatly under Brian's chin.

"Are you sure you don't want to go out?" Justin asked, again.

"I'm sure, for the hundredth time," Brian answered, squeezing the other man tighter to him. He wasn't one for cuddling, but he occasionally had his moments, like when it was fucking freezing outside. The feel of Justin molded against him was heavenly and an added bonus to their combined body heat keeping them warm on the cold winter night.

The television in the hotel room was turned to Dick Clark's New Years Rockin' Eve, but the volume was down low and from the balcony all the talking and music were too indistinct to really listen to or pay attention to. The cheering crowd noise from below drifted up to them, but they were high enough that it wasn't too disruptive. The balcony had wide gaps in the rails and so even lying on the chaise they could see the ball and where it would end up once it'd dropped, lighting up to signify the entry of a new year; 2006.

"Three minutes," Brian craned his neck to check the clock on the wall of the room.

"Brian?"

"Hmmmm?"

"Maybe you can come visit me in Italy?" Justin's voice sounded small, and frightened. Brian wondered when it was Justin became hesitant to ask anything of Brian – and Brian wondered how long it would take before Justin would stop being hesitant to ask anything of him.

"Maybe," Brian responded, the seed of an idea suddenly planting itself as the noise from the crowd below increased in volume suddenly.

"Must be soon," Justin said and Brian looked back into the room to check.

"One minute," he reported just as Justin titled his head up and planted a soft kiss on the underside of Brian's jaw.

"I love you, you know," Justin whispered and Brian smirked.

"I know," he said. He knew what Justin wanted to hear but Brian wasn't going to say it, not yet.

Suddenly the crowd below them was chanting, counting down and when they reached ten, Brian heard Justin's soft voice chime in.

"Nine…eight…seven…six…five…four…three…two…one…."

"Happy New Year!" The crowd below them all screamed at the same time and suddenly Justin was twisting his body, on his knees between Brian's legs as his hands gripped Brian's face and his lips pressed against Brian's.

The kiss was long, and deep, and quite erotic. Brian, even in the frigid temperatures, felt his cock responding to Justin's touch. Finally, as the confetti, let loose by the city, began to fill the air around them, they broke apart both panting and breathless.

Brian laughed, pulling a large purple piece of confetti from Justin's hair before he noticed there was quite a bit of it floating in the air around them. Justin gave a soft laugh too – reaching out and pulling a few pieces of confetti from Brian's hair.

Brian stared at Justin as the other man grinned, staring up into the sky to watch the confetti gently fall.

"Hey," Brian said, poking Justin lightly in the stomach to get his attention. When he was looking at him, a smile still playing on his lips, Brian nodded.

"I fucking love you so damn much it hurts," Brian said softly and when Justin grinned he smiled back at him.

"That's always good to hear," Justin whispered, pressing his lips once more against Brian's.

* * *

_Six and half months later…_

"When will he be here, daddy!" Gus whined, impatiently stomping his feet as he peered out the front door window for the thousandth time that morning.

"Any minute Sonny boy, now calm down," Brian grumbled. He was just as anxious, actually probably more so, but less free to be childish about it, unlike Gus.

"Gus, go get the card you made," Lindsay, who was hovering a little way back from the front door, said to Gus. The little boy grinned and ran to the kitchen to retrieve it from the table.

"He's just nervous and excited," Lindsay shrugged.

"Aren't we all," Brian murmured. Thinking he heard a car he peered out the window but there was nothing there.

Justin had left for Italy on March 1st. Three days after the studio Brian had had built for him was completed. They had spent those three days in the studio – fucking on the bed in between Justin painting nudes of Brian from any and all angles. Then, the morning of Justin's departure Brian had surprised him by appearing downstairs with his own suitcase in hand.

Brian traveled with Justin to Rome and had stayed with him for three weeks; from Rome, to Florence, to Bologna, to Milan where he had said his goodbyes. He'd also managed to visit one other time, when they'd traveled back south to Naples. It had been as Justin had said – Vincenzo kept them busy and Brian only saw Justin for a few hours each day, but that meant he was able to do Kinnetik business during the day, and when he was able to see Justin, well, they made the most of their time together. Vincenzo had been leery of Brian's presence at first but quickly changed his mind when he noted that Justin's works improved exponentially when Brian was there. In fact he practically begged Brian to stay the entire four months – if only to serve as Justin's muse, but Brian couldn't stay the entire time – he had a company to run, and a son to take care of.

And he had a therapist to see. Yes. Brian Kinney was seeing a shrink. His nightmares had mostly stopped – instead of occurring nightly they occurred maybe once a month. He'd started seeing someone the end of January when, after waking Justin up for the third night in a row the younger man had flat out refused to share Brian's bed unless he did something to stop his nightmares. It was just the sort of kick in the ass Brian had needed, and he'd found it wasn't so bad, the talking. It was still hard, even six months later, but he continued to do it. Overall he felt better for it, though Justin was the only one who knew about it.

Lindsay too was doing well, too. She'd been hired to teach art at an elementary school in Pittsburgh, and she and Gus were moving back to the city in July. They'd found an apartment close to the school, and close to Lindsay's parents. Lindsay even confessed to Brian to having had a few phone chats with Jaelynn since their trip to New York in December. So far, they were just talking as friends, but Brian thought maybe Lindsay was considering letting it be more – if she could get over the long-distance thing.

Brian wasn't going to pretend that Lindsay and Gus moving out wasn't going to hurt. He was already feeling lonely and they hadn't even left yet. But at the same time he was excited – excited to have Justin home, and for the house to be theirs at last. He would miss Gus, and Lindsay, and even the damn dog, but Brian was also happy to start a new chapter of his life with Justin – and he knew he'd see Gus and Lindsay quite often.

Brian peered out the window again, his heart leaping in his chest as a sleek, black car drove up the driveway. Brian had wanted to be there at the airport to greet Justin, but Justin had asked him not to come. He'd said it'd be too hectic and crazy but mainly Justin wanted Brian to wait at home because he planned to ravage him as soon as humanly possible. Lindsay had already promised to take Gus into town with Sunny to give the two men some privacy.

Brian, though it'd been a struggle, had remained faithful. He'd not fucked a single guy other than Justin in the four months they'd been apart. Of course, Brian traveling to Italy had helped in that regard, but really, Brian also hadn't been too tempted. He'd of course received more than a few blowjobs, but he and Justin had agreed that was acceptable, and Brian knew Justin had also let more than one hot Italian suck him off while in Italy.

"He's here Gus!" Brian called out, hearing the pounding steps of his son as he came racing back into the entryway, Sunny yapping at his heels.

Brian watched through the window as Justin emerged from the car, the driver unloading his bags onto the driveway. Justin said something to him and he just nodded before he got back into the car and drove away.

"Open the door, daddy!" Gus yelled and through the window Brian saw Justin grin as he walked towards the house. No doubt he heard Gus.

"Go," Brian smiled, opening the door and stepping aside as Gus, Sunny close behind, raced down the sidewalk and threw himself into Justin's arms.

Twenty minutes later, Lindsay, Gus and Sunny were gone to town, and Brian and Justin were in the studio, the shades drawn down and their hands and mouths all over each other.

"Fuck I missed you," Brian panted. He licked and kissed Justin's lips, his throat, his chest. He tasted salty and sweet and Brian, starved for him, couldn't get enough.

It had only been four weeks since they'd seen each other in Naples, but it had felt infinitely longer.

"You look fucking hot," Brian groaned, pulling back to admire the slight tan on the younger man's narrow chest and the bright, natural highlights in his blonde hair.

"Shut up and fuck me," Justin groaned, his hands inside Brian's pants and stroking his cock.

"My pleasure," Brian whispered.


	25. Epilogue

**_A/N - it all started with Lindsay, and so I wanted it to end with Lindsay. Thank you all for reading and commenting, it is hugely appreciated!_**

* * *

_August 2006_

Lindsay rolled through the empty house, the only sound the whispering squeak in the front right wheel of her chair. For a Saturday afternoon, it was eerily still and quiet.

It was Gus's sixth birthday and the following day was the big party. Lindsay and Gus had moved back to Pittsburgh just about two weeks earlier, and not only was their new place still only half unpacked, it was far too small to host all their friends and Gus's friends, too. So the party would be at Britin, and Lindsay and Gus had come out early to have a smaller, more intimate celebration, with Brian and Justin before all of Gus's school and neighborhood friends would descend on the house the following day.

Lindsay and Brian had given Gus part of his present a day early, a bicycle, and Brian had spent the morning helping him learn to ride. Gus had been a quick learner, adapting to the lack of training wheels and the larger size bike with little troubles and only two crashes. When he'd finally mastered the balance, he'd howled with laughter riding back and forth and up and down the driveway while Brian ran behind him and Sunny chased them both. When he felt confident enough to no longer need Brian's help getting on, or taking off, he'd begun riding the long, arching, u-shaped drive by himself. Sunny of course was still at his rear wheel, following along and yipping and jumping around excitedly while Gus whooped and laughed. Promising not to go into the street, Brian retreated to the house while Lindsay stayed outside and watched from the sidewalk out front.

The afternoon was warm, and Lindsay had come inside to get some water - for herself and for Gus - finding the house quiet. She wondered if maybe Brian had gone upstairs when a slight movement out the large back window caught her eye. Rolling her chair closer to the bay windows in the breakfast nook that overlooked the back patio and pool, she smiled.

There he was.

Brian was stretched out on a lounge chair, likely having intended to take advantage of the warmth of the late August day to get a little sun. And no doubt that would have worked, if Justin weren't squished into the lounger too, his arms and legs draped over Brian.

Lindsay could see Justin's easel, standing a little off to the side with a partially painted canvas resting on it, large globs of paint smeared on the small table that stood next to it. She smiled again. Justin's best works were portraits and scenes he painted of Brian. His other stuff, the scenery and impressionistic works were appreciated but his portraits of Brian, and Brian and Gus, were what had ultimately given him the most pleasure and what little notoriety he'd earned in the art world.

Justin wasn't famous - at least not by most people's standards - but his paintings sold on a fairly regular basis and typically for quite a pretty penny. When he'd come back from Italy, there'd been a few tense weeks in which Jaelynn had tried to convince Justin he needed to be a more visible presence in New York. That people were talking about him and his works but the artist himself never seemed to be around. Justin fought with her, and with Brian a little too, to stay in Pittsburgh and the West Virginia house. He argued, quite truthfully, that he did his best work when with Brian and there was no amount of money or fame or fortune that could tempt him to live that dual-city life. Lindsay didn't see Brian argue too much with him about that point, and after a few more attempts Jaelynn stopped trying to make Justin come back to New York. It really wasn't necessary, and after seeing the types of works Justin did when without Brian Lindsay had to agree that staying with the other man was the better choice than trying to live a life in two cities.

Justin's works were quite brilliant, at least Lindsay thought so. He had a rare talent of capturing the essence of a person when he painted, which was undoubtedly why all his stuff that featured Brian was so popular and sparked so much conversation at the various shows and galleries Jaelynn booked for him. Even though Brian's face was rarely depicted outright and in any great detail, with just one look at a painted scene she could practically feel the attitude, the mood, the raw energy his form exuded. It seemed to radiate straight off the canvas, sometimes so brutally it was assaulting. Justin simply saw people, particularly Brian, in a way no one else really could.

Lindsay was in awe of him for that gift.

She watched them for awhile. It made her happy to see Brian so content, to see them finally in a place where they could make each other happy without any additional rules or caveats. She had been worried, when Justin was in Italy, but Brian's visits there and his calm (mostly) reassurance Justin would be back eased her nerves. She just wanted Brian to be happy. After everything he'd done for her - he deserved it; so did Justin.

Watching them together did sometimes make her a bit sad. She missed Melanie and thought she always would, and still every morning, day, and night she wished Mel was there with her. Always. It was worse when she had JR because in a way it was like Mel was there, around, but always just out of sight, always just somewhere Lindsay couldn't get to her. It didn't help that the little girl was a spitting image of her mom in the same way that Gus was growing to look more and more like Brian. She had Michael's big, brown eyes, but her features and her attitude were all Mel.

It was strange - her life now. Most of the time it was really good, though she had her bad days and figured she always would. She'd adjusted, mostly, to life in a wheelchair. It was still a struggle, at times, but she had started to recognize how lucky she was not to be more seriously injured; she may not be able to walk but she could still feel sensations and move around just a bit. But she was lonely and she couldn't help but wonder what might come next for her, and for JR and for Gus.

After New York and the somewhat regrettable one-night stand she'd had with Jaelynn, the woman had actually become quite a good friend, though the younger woman had insinuated to Lindsay on more than once occasion that she wanted to be more than just friends. Lindsay wasn't quite ready for that. She thought soon – but not quite yet. Jaelynn had been understanding of her feelings and they'd kept in touch despite her rejection of Jaelynn's advances. In fact it was Jaelynn who had encouraged Lindsay to continue drawing and painting.

After Justin's show in New York, and while he was gone in Italy Lindsay had suffered a kind of artistic breakdown. She hated everything she drew, and she hated everything she painted. Gus had been sweet in his encouragement to her, and Brian had done his part to be supportive but Lindsay hated everything she did. It was after she had a breakdown on the phone with Jaelynn (for which she was mortally embarrassed of for weeks after) that the younger woman offered Lindsay the kind of encouraging pep talk that can only come from someone who doesn't know you. She only repeated what Brian, and Gus to an extent, had been reiterating to Lindsay, but for whatever reason hearing it from her – a person so wholly unconnected to her past – had finally made her realize that though she'd never be as good as Justin, she had her own trademark talents and she began to foster them, seeing some improvements that gave her confidence again. A month later she was offered a job teaching art at an Elementary School in Pittsburgh.

Lindsay had to admit, dipping her toes into the art world again had been a huge relief, a different kind of therapy aside from the physical and mental she'd been participating in since the accident. It had actually made her feel a little less lonely and out of place.

Brian's long arms reached out suddenly and as Lindsay watched the two men shifted on the chair. Justin rolled over onto his side and Brian curled up behind him, wrapping his arms around Justin's torso and spooning him, his forehead pressing into the back of Justin's neck.

Lindsay smiled. She didn't have to wonder about Brian or Justin. They would be okay. They were together finally, and really, truly happy. She honestly couldn't be happier for them.


End file.
